


Leather Factory Inc.

by xoPeapup



Series: AFTERCARE [5]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 24/7/365 D/s lifestyle, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Anal Fisting, Authority, BDSM, Daddy undertones, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dom!Negan, Dom!Shane, Dom/sub, Edgeplay, Fivesome - M/M/M/M/M, Heavy Dominance, Impact Play, M/M, Marking, Mild Puppy Play, Obedience, Polyamory, Rough Sex, Spit Kink, Sub!Daryl, Threesome - M/M/M, Total Power Exchange, mild piss play, public scening, sub!Jesus, switch!Rick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:13:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 83,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22281658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoPeapup/pseuds/xoPeapup
Summary: This story is built around Negan, the owner of the Leather Factory Empire and No 1 hotshot of the worldwide Gay and BDSM community and the concept of Dominance and submission, total power exchange and a 24/7 D/s lifestyle. It also shows the journey of Rick, Daryl, and Paul into/ through submission under their Doms, Negan and Shane.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Jesus, Daryl Dixon/Jesus/Negan, Daryl Dixon/Negan, Jesus/Negan (Walking Dead), Jesus/Shane Walsh, Negan/Daryl Dixon, Negan/Rick Grimes/Shane Walsh, Rick Grimes/Jesus/Shane Walsh, Rick Grimes/Negan, Rick Grimes/Shane Walsh
Series: AFTERCARE [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/825264
Comments: 199
Kudos: 253





	1. Leather Factory Inc.

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware of the tags. If you are uncomfortable with the worship of Negan, Polyamory, and BDSM (especially TPE in a 24/7 lifestyle), this whole thing isn't for you.
> 
> You probably won't know what's going on if you haven't read AFTERCARE.

"Sub maintenance, Gentlemen, can be a very effective tool especially in long term relationships or through the busy and difficult times. We're not living in a fairytale world where you can run around all day in your fetish gear or drag a sub through the next Aldi store on a leash."

After the remodeling process, workshops, seminars, and demos weren't held at the club anymore, but at one of the two brand-new classrooms the Leather Factory had to offer now. In the C-Wing. Room 0-23 was the bigger one with serious lecture hall-vibes, a capacity of 300 listeners and tiered seating, while room 0-24 was a lot more intimate and geared to host demonstrations of all kinds.

Daryl liked 0-23 a lot better but still found today's seminar extremely boring.

"The reality of life is different. Jobs, family duties, daily problems. The dog gets sick, lil' Quendolin has a fucking school play, you need to spend some extra hours at the office because your employee fucked up the books." Negan walked slowly from left to right in front of his audience, hands behind his back. "A Dom may be busier in his everyday life than he realizes or wants to and has to put his private life on the back burner at times." He stopped, pinching his nose, "Still, you wanna keep your sub eager to serve and not have them feel neglected in any way. That is where sub maintenance comes in handy." then gestured to the huge screen behind him. "Spanking is the most common form used for maintenance in the BDSM community. Nothing overly tiring, nothing that causes a lot of investment. Just a brief, recurring spanking at a certain time of day in order to snap the sub back into their role. It has nothing to do with punishment and has nothing to do with a full scene. It is meant to be a short interaction, a way for you to reconnect in your busy life and remind your sub of his place. Remind him of your authority." He pursed his lips, putting a hand on his chest. "Now, I am personally not a big fan of impact play as a form of maintenance on a daily basis. A sub might be too sensitive or not emotionally stable enough to perceive such interaction as what it is and instead feel punished for whatever reason. Also, I am not always in the mood or mindset to inflict pain on my sub." He granted the people seated in the middle some eye contact, "What I prefer is a mix of constant reminders in all shapes and forms throughout the day." then continued to slowly stride from left to right, arms behind his back." While my subs technically serve me 24/7... doing laundry or running some errands might not necessarily remind them of their place or keep them in the constant submissive state that allows them to feel safe and comfortable, especially when I am not around. But if I have them walk to heel through Target or make them kneel for half an hour next to my desk, they will be put back into their place immediately." He walked over to the table to pour himself a cup of coffee, drank, glanced down when he noticed a couple of drops falling from the bottom of the cup down on his shoe, drank again and then snapped his fingers as he put the cup back on the table. "Ksst. Here."

Paul's head shot up, still a big smile on his face after having shared an insider joke with Daryl. "Hm?" He received a cocked eyebrow as an answer and cleared his throat in return before he rose to his feet and walked over with a smirk but lowered head. "Yes, Sir?"

Negan snapped his fingers once more and pointed one down. In an instant boy number two sank to his knees, brushed his long hair behind his ears and devotedly started to lick the spilled coffee off one of his dads' biker boots. 

"Sub maintenance doesn't have to be extensive. The chance to refocus and a little reminder of who's in control, that's enough before both can go on with their day." Negan patted the back of his boy's head and sent him back to his place on the sidelines with a subtle wave of a finger before he gave his full attention back to the audience. "A further very effective way to put them back into submission are orgasms. Not the big ones with bells, whistles and fucking fireworks. You're not rewarding them for anything, you're not giving them the time of their life. Just order them to a specific spot in your home, rub one out quickly and go on about your business. Make it an ordinary act like brushing teeth or wiping down the table after dinner. Keeping a sub regulated like that can help them have more stable emotions and in turn be more obedient. Plus," He lowered his chin, looking at his audience. "-the matter-of-course method you handle the whole deed with will naturally push them into a submissive mindset and remind them who's in charge."

_"...who is... in... "_ Gregory on seat 7 in the first row tapped the tip of his pen against his tongue to somehow get more ink out for the last word of the sentence. _"...charge."_ Spending 130 dollars on this specific presentation had been definitely money well spent.

\---- 

Behind door 0-14 was the janitor's little apartment, 0-15-0-17 was where all the sports rooms were located, 0-18 and 0-19 were still empty but meant for future production space and 0-20, the first room next to the staircase had a subtle metal sign next to the doorframe with bold, black letters. **_KENNEL._** Daryl had no idea what the room's purpose had been before the renovations because three weeks ago he had seen it for the first time. He was very familiar with it now, though, since every day after lunch, when he had carried the dirty dishes to the sink, Negan walked him down the stairs to visit it. On the way, they always stopped at the same door. One that was entirely new as well. Brown and heavy like Negan's apartment door and it even had its own bell. Daryl was supposed to use it every time on his trip down to room 0-20. And every day the door was answered by the Cowboy boots-guy who lived there for almost a month by now, in the new 2-bedroom apartment Negan had added to the Leather Factory's premises. Every day Daryl was supposed to ask him for the black bucket and every day Rick vanished inside the apartment and after a moment came back with a fresh cleaning rag and a small black bucket that contained a bit of soapy water. Daryl mumbled a 'thank you' every day and then a 'Hm' that sounded a bit friendlier when Shane from somewhere inside the apartment shouted a 'Have a good nap boy!'. Then the door was shut again and Negan walked him the last two sets of stairs down and unlocked the door to the kennel. A room that wasn't very big and not very much furnished. It had a small, low wooden shelf at one wall and a couple of metal bowls at the other wall. There was no window but six recessed ceiling lights that gave off as much light as Negan chose to use. The ground was tiled with smooth natural stone and equipped with in-floor heating and the only thing on it was a little toy squirrel that currently lay somewhere near the water bowl. Every day, when Daryl saw all of it his stomach flip-flopped with a weird mixture of embarrassment and excitement and usually the excitement won as soon as Negan gave him the signal to start. It was the 22nd's repetition now and he knew exactly what to do. Put the bucket down next to the small wooden shelf, take all the clothing off and fold it, place it on the shelf, and walk over to the little wall panel next to the door to decide whether he wanted to push the button. The entire room had video surveillance and he knew it was connected to Negan's phone, Shane's phone and to Rick's and Paul's as well. He knew it was for safety reasons and he knew he was allowed to choose when to start the cameras. Right away or as soon as Negan left the room. His stomach tumbled once more as he decided for the seventh time to start the cameras right away and pushed the button.

"Good job."

The praise he received for all of his accomplished tasks wasn't effusive but soft and calm for the 22nd's time. His hair was ruffled and a raisin was shoved between his lips. Then he lowered onto his knees and watched each of Negan's moves with close attention. 

"Come here." Negan went to the middle of the room and squatted down. "Where's your spot, show me."

Daryl sniffed his nose and half crawled, half slid on his knees to the spot he had been taken a nap on 21 times until now. He glanced up at Negan, putting a hand flat on the ground. It was smooth and warm and made his insides tingle.

"Good job. All fours."

At the sound of snapping fingers, he went on all fours, taking a sharp breath when his bare ass was swatted immediately because his legs weren't spread wide enough. He corrected his posture and glanced down between his arms, seeing his rock hard penis twitch beneath his belly right before a big hand grabbed it and started stroking.

"Eyes up." Negan's words sounded as firm as his grip felt. "Arch!"

Daryl lifted his head and squeezed his eyes shut as he arched his back, feeling already close to climax, just as every day. Knowing that people could technically watch him in black and white on small phone screens and the almost clinical way Negan touched him made him sweat and keen.

"Mhm. Arch. You wanna stick that ass up."

He heard himself grunt when his dick was pulled hard a couple of times and then stroked fast and rough for about thirty seconds until the muscles in his thighs and arms trembled and his balls drew up into a short, strong climax. Instantly he was released and instead his already tousled hair was ruffled in praise.

"Nice. Are you a good boy?" Negan was back on his feet and stood in a firm stance by his sub's head, pushing it against his leg until he received some kind of a nod between a lot of heavy breathing. "Yeah, you are." He patted a glowing cheek. "Chop, chop. You wanna go get your bucket. You can't sleep in a puddle, right?"

Daryl moved as if on autopilot towards the small wooden shelf where he had placed the black bucket and spilled a few drops of water as he carried it to the puddle of milky fluid he had created on the ground. Like every day he took the cleaning rag, dipped it into the soapy water and wiped it over the wet spot on the grey floor. Twice. Then he glanced up at Negan with blushed cheeks, waited for confirmation and brought the bucket back to its place next to the shelf before he returned and without needing an order to do so curled up in the freshly cleaned place to sleep.

"No." Negan nudged him with the tip of his boot. "You wanna present." He watched until the position was corrected to his liking, chest down, knees spread, ass up, and bent down a bit to briefly tickle the side of his sub's collared neck. "Good boy. When will I come back to wake you up?"

Daryl closed his eyes, his nose so close to a well-worn biker boot that he was able to smell its leather. "Two-thirty."

Negan nodded, heading for the panel by the door to dim the light. "Simon takes you to swim training then and in the evening we'll have dinner at the Herban Fix." He waited for a last tired 'Hm' and shut the door, checking his phone for a correct video transmission as soon as he was back out in the staircase. 

Daryl heard his owner's steps on the stairs, heard the door to the club open and close and knew he would go to the office to work for the next one and a half hours. He took a deep breath, shifted the slightest bit and turned his head in the other direction before he drifted off to sleep in the comforting warmth of the in-floor heating.

At 2:28 PM the door opened and the light got a bit brighter, making him crinkle his nose beneath tousled hair and curl up into a ball of resistance because every fiber of his body refused to end naptime already.

Negan squatted down to wipe a lot of hair out of a warm face. "Look at you being so pretty on my floor. Love how you look down there." 

Daryl rolled on his back and squinted against the light, not even trying to hide his nudity. Negan wore his red scarf and the leather jacket. He liked that a lot. 

A sudden tinge of happiness flickered through tired blue eyes, tipping the right corner of Negan's mouth up. "Happy to see me?"

"Hm." Daryl closed his eyes again but nodded as he stretched his body. He really was.

"Yeah? Wanna go swimming now?"

He blinked his eyes open again, stretching a finger out to touch a black jacket. "'ll you come?"

"Do I have time to go swimming with my pretty puppy boy?" Negan rose back to his feet with a sigh. "Not today. I'm not done at the office. But I'll take you upstairs and pack you a snack before Simon comes, right?" He held a hand out for the man on the ground. "Chop, chop. You don't wanna be late."

As every day, Daryl dressed, picked up the cleaning bucket and followed his owner out of the room and up the stairs, stopping in the middle of the staircase at a fairly new brown door, where he ringed the bell and waited for Rick to answer. Like every day he gave the used bucket back and then obediently sat down on the stairs because Negan snapped his fingers and started a conversation with his employee.

"Shane told me he wants a date night with the boy tonight, so I'll take you with me to the Herban Fix."

Rick glared at his visitor, the water bucket dangling from his fingers. "I don't need a babysitter."

"You're turning down my dinner invitation?"

His scowl grew deeper but after 11 seconds of silent eye contact, he sighed and looked to the right. "No."

"Good." Negan put a hand on Rick's shoulder. "Seven o'clock. Ironed shirt." He turned to leave but in the last second stopped and leaned close to speak right next to Rick's ear. "And you don't wanna just dump the water out. Clean the bucket. Twice." He nudged his nose very faintly against a scruffy cheek, smiled and continued his way upstairs, snapping his fingers for Daryl to follow. "Boy. Come."

\----

The Herban Fix was an Asian-themed, upscale restaurant that still provided a casual vibe to the customers. No polished candle holders, no bright white table cloths, no silly piano music in the background. 

Maybe that was the reason why Mister Dixon actually enjoyed coming here. The food on his plate looked fancy, but the people at the tables all around him did not. They looked normal and nobody threw him judgemental looks while he devoured his mushroom-sweet pea-ravioli. Normally. Because on this particular evening somebody tried to kill him with glowing death stares across the table every time he brought the fork near his lips.

"Really?" Rick grumbled with a shake of the head when the young man at the other side of the table stuffed his mouth for the 5th time with as much food as possible, chewed once and then took a big sip from his wine to mix it all up behind his sticky lips.

"Ksst." Negan tucked a strand of stray hair behind his sub's ear, giving him an encouraging smile when blue eyes glanced at him with pure insecurity. "Are you enjoying the food I bought for you? Make sure you eat it all or we won't order dessert, right."

"Hm." Daryl hunched his shoulders anyway and just cautiously nibbled at some piece of pasta, peering at the Cowboy boots-guy through his longish bangs.

Rick angrily poked the Korean pancake on his plate with his cutlery. "I can't believe you let him get away with this. His behavior reflects on all of us."

Negan folded his cloth napkin and put it next to his plate, speaking as calm and friendly as if the topic would be the weather. "If I were you I wouldn't worry so much about his table manners. You should be concerned about the sweet 30 minutes of corner time you get to enjoy once we're back home."

Rick huffed a laugh, glancing up from his plate. "Are you threatening me?" 

"Nope." Negan waved for the waitress. "I am telling you the consequences for badmouthing my partner in public, spoiling the awesome dinner I fucking invited him to, and interfering with my training methods." 

"Is everything to your liking, Gentlemen?" A woman with neat hair bun and black apron stopped at the table, giving the three men a friendly smile.

"Actually, Christina," Negan took the fork out of Rick's fingers and pointed at the man's barely touched food. "Mister Grimes is still full from that enormous rib-eye he had for lunch. Could you be a lamb and wrap that up for us?"

"Are you fucking serious?" Rick lowered his chin as he leaned closer to Negan in an attempt to hiss his complaint in privacy. "This is a vegan restaurant, you can't just-"

"No problem, Sir." Christina removed the plate, trying not to touch her carnivorous dinner guest. "Anything else?"

"The dessert menu."

"Of course. Coming right up, Sir." She left the table, balancing a plate of Korean pancakes through the crowded place.

"Asshole." Rick wasn't quite sure what to do with his napkin, touched it once to his mouth and then balled it up and squished it in his right hand because he couldn't do the same with his rude companion.

Negan didn't lose his casual attitude, taking a sip of his drink. "45 minutes. Now sit the fuck straight and keep me some nice company while I enjoy the rest of my food."

Rick grimaced, crinkled his nose, squished the poor napkin a bit more in his fist and after 53 seconds of trying to calm down, pressed a sentence out that had nothing in common with casual table talk. "Lori insists that we keep the house. She doesn't want the kids at your place."

Negan gave a nod as he swiped some of his grilled eggplant through the basil sauce. "Maybe that's a good idea. Some space between kids and private life might be beneficial for you." 

Rick listened without looking up, glad that the tone he was spoken to had some sympathetic, almost protective vibes to it. "Maybe."

"They're not stupid. Carl knows what's goin' on anyway. He's a smart shit, that kid."

He sniffed his nose, nodding. "I know."

Negan nudged his employee's hand. "It's almost a month now. You like the apartment?"

The tense lines on Rick's face disappeared instantly. "Was a good idea."

"Yeah? Boy and hubby happy too?"

He pursed his lips to keep them from smiling, unsuccessfully. "Yes."

"Very good. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help you settle in."

Daryl stopped chewing as he listened to the conversation and sniffed his nose with a flick of his head when he really couldn't be quiet any longer because he wanted to say something important as well. "'like it too."

Negan didn't look up while pushing the rest of the eggplant with his knife on the fork. "I know you like it, too. It's nice to have Paul around all the time, right?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded. It really was. Very much so. "Yes."

"Mhm. You like all the new rooms as well?"

"Hm. The garage." He spent a lot of time there.

"The garage is not new, though." 

Daryl glanced across the table but the Cowboy boots-guy didn't seem as if he had heard the little mistake, so he dared to give it another try. "Nap room."

"The kennel." 

"Hm. Kennel."

Negan sipped his wine. "It's okay, you can call it whatever the fuck you want. Glad you like it."

"Hm." A tiny smile slipped over Daryl's lips as comforting pictures of warm stone floors and a tall beautiful man crouching in front of him popped into his mind. It made his guts tingle and something inside his butt throb. 

Negan put his cutlery and the toothpick he had used on the empty plate, noticing how one of Daryl's hands vanished beneath the table and the man's shoulders hunched while a slight shade of pink spread over his cheeks. "You wanna sit straight for me?"

Daryl's head shot up and a second later he straightened his back, "Yes." putting both of his hands on the table.

"Thank you." Negan accepted the dessert menu a waitress handed to him. "You also wanna thank Christina for bringing us the menu?"

The happy pink glow instantly left Daryl's features and was replaced by a shocked tone of white and big round eyes staring at the female person at the table. "Thank you." It didn't sound very polite or friendly but Negan seemed to like it anyway.

"Nice." He fished a raisin out of his pocket and blindly fed it with one hand while opening the menu with the other. "Christina, we would like to try the chocolate cake. Make sure it's gluten-free." 

The waitress nodded, claimed the menu back and left with a smile.

"You know no shame." Rick pretended to be busy with refolding his hopelessly crinkled napkin.

"True." Negan agreed and selected his used fork to hold it out for his sub to take. "Good boy liking my kennel so much. You may clean that for me."

Confusion and a slight sense of embarrassment battled for a moment in Daryl's chest before excitement won. He took the offered object and after a second of hesitation turned a bit to the left for more privacy as he poked his tongue against the sauce covered metal.

Rick watched and squinted, muttering something too low for anyone to understand. And then blushed to some extent when suddenly a crumb of dry bread was held right in front of his mouth. He glanced up, found a handsome face with challenging smirk and arched brows, and after a couple of seconds decided to part his lips and eat the most delicious breadcrumb in the universe. The low 'good job' directed at him gave him weird tingles, that he could feel even half an hour later when he carried his leftovers to the car. 

\----

The C-Wing didn't look anything like it had before the renovation works. It was clean and modern now, it smelled fresh, and after the third week, Daryl knew his way through all the new rooms and corridors without any difficulties, even by night.

Storage, offices and future production in the basement. All the sports rooms, Joseph's little condo and Eugene's new office space on the ground level. The rooms for workshops and demos, and a sound-insulated drum practice/YouTube room for Jesus on the first level. Several guest rooms on the second level. The third had no rooms at all and on the top level was a sauna located along with a neat outside jacuzzi on a sundeck. Daryl liked it a lot. It reminded him of the cruise ship and he couldn't wait until Merle was released from prison so he could take a bath in it.

"Puppy!" Jesus slid gracefully off Shane's lap, wiping a wet strand of hair out of his glowing face. "Are you coming in? I am bathing all my new pretty bruises."

"Hm?" Daryl stopped in a safe distance to the whirlpool, lifting a shoulder to rub his ear against.

Shane sat up a little higher, his arms left and right on the rim of the round tub. "We tested a new paddle. How was dinner?"

Daryl lifted his shoulder a bit higher. "Good."

"Where's Rick?"

He sniffed his nose and pointed a vague finger to the left. "Corner."

Shane snorted a laugh.

"Tooold you..." Jesus sing-sanged and leaned in to kiss one of his dad's wet cheek. "Should I go downstairs, Sir?"

"Yeah." Shane groaned, stretching his tired limbs. "Go with Daryl. I'll see you later." 

Daryl sniffed his nose once more. "We have to report." That's why Negan had sent him to find Paul.

"Ah, the hardships of being a pleasure slave..." Jesus climbed out of the jacuzzi with his dramatic statement, took a last sip from his Aftercare-orange-mango-juice, wrapped his slender body into a big, fluffy bathrobe and padded with wet feet towards the former skylight that was now a proper entrance to the staircase.

Daryl waved three shy fingers in Shane's direction instead of saying a real 'goodnight', couldn't contain a tiny smile when the gesture was returned with a wink, and then followed wet footprints back down the stairs. "You're not a slave."

Jesus frowned, squinting one eye as he looked back over his shoulder. "Yeah, isn't that odd? You would think that I'm up for a promotion after all these years."

\----

_**Good:** breakfast_

_class_

_cores_

_nap_

_tiger_

_swimming_

_**Bad:** speak_

_dinner_

_**Like:** nap_

_fork_

_Jesus_

_swimming_

_house_

_**Hate:** Tina_

_store_

  
_**Change:** _

  
Daryl smacked his lips and put the pencil down, glancing at Paul's notepad to see what he was writing under change since it was really hard to think of something lately. But Paul's arm was in the way and partly shielded the words so he sighed, tapped the tip of the pencil seven times on the paper and finally wrote 'report' behind Change because he really wished he would still be allowed to write reports on his phone instead of using a pen and paper.

"Are you done? Let me see." Negan came up from behind to lean over his sub's back, both arms propped on the table, his bearded chin resting on Daryl's head as he started to read. 

Daryl tried not to blink or breathe, especially when the pencil was claimed and the first corrections were made right in front of his eyes in very fluent, elegant handwriting.

_**Good:** breakfast - I served a great breakfast for Negan!_

_class - I was on my best behavior during Negan's seminar!_

_c **h** ores - I did all my chores and finished in time. Negan loves that!_

_nap - I did really well with my new naptime routine. Negan is fucking proud!_

_tiger - I took Tiger for a walk while Negan had to work!_

_swimming - I had a very successful swim training!_

_**Bad:** speak - I got a strike for not speaking when I was spoken to. I will do better! _

_~~dinner~~ \- Nothing was wrong with dinner. Negan enjoyed my company very much!_

_**Like:** nap - I am a good boy and enjoy my new naptime routine. Negan fucking loves that! _

_fork - I liked to clean my owner's cutlery!_

_Jesus - I like to spend so much time with Paul!_

_swimming - I like my swim training!_

_house - I enjoy all the changes Negan made in our home. I wanna write a one-page essay about it in detail and present it to my owner next Sunday._

Daryl wrinkled his nose, a little sigh escaping his throat as he read the order behind his last 'like'. He really hated to write long texts with whole sentences and everything.

"Ksst." Negan tapped the pencil on a specific word. "Who's Tina? The blonde girl from swim training?"

The question wasn't directed at Jesus but he answered anyway while rubbing the last piece of his eraser over a slightly crinkled paper because he had maybe used the wrong tone to express his hatred regarding his new 'no combat boots on freshly waxed hardwood floors'-rule. "Oh man, she's a bitch." 

"Mhm. You wanna watch your mouth and pick up all that dust from my fucking table." 

"Don't worry, Sir, it's just rubber." Jesus blew the tiny flecks of grey dirt a bit to the right, brushed his hand over his paper twice and continued writing.

Daryl sniffed his nose, glad that he wasn't asked again, and then frowned when Negan added more text to the report.

**Hate:** _Tina - I wanna turn around and open my mouth **;)**_

_store - I don't enjoy serving customers at the store because I am a shy person by nature, but I wanna remember that I am doing a fantastic job and Negan is very thankful for my help._

He read the comments twice and still hesitated as he turned his head to glance up, parting his lips just a little bit.

Negan smirked, pulled a raisin out of his pocket and fed it with a wag of his brows but no further comment before he continued with his correction.

_**Change:** report - Writing is not my favorite task but I wanna improve it and therefore I will deliver my reports in writing until Negan tells me otherwise._

_ **Bonus** _

_**The reason I don't like Tina:** _

Negan tapped the pencil on the words he had added and then handed the pen over. "Now." He earned a sigh and instantly swatted his sub's upper arm for it, "Start." before standing a bit back, towering over Daryl's chair with his arms crossed as he watched the order being carried out. "Complete sentences."

Daryl wanted to sigh again but didn't and just shifted on his chair, fisting a hand into his tousled hair while scribbling a crooked answer.

_**The reason I don't like Tina:** _

_She laughs and hits. She is stupid._

Negan didn't have to bend down to read the words. "She hit you?"

"Hm." Daryl could've just said the word out loud but instead wrote 'touel' behind 'stupid'.

Negan squinted, not changing his pose. "She hit you with a towel?" He received a nod and wouldn't have needed any more information because a clear picture of the situation formed in his mind.

Jesus decided to help out anyway. "Yep. Pulled his trunks down, too. Told you she's a bitch."

"Hm." Daryl agreed, pulling his fingers as he glanced up to see Negan's face. He wanted to tell that all the other girls at training had burst out into laughter but then he didn't because he didn't want to sound like a whiny pansy.

Negan tried to keep his voice neutral. "Paul. You wanna tell me why she did that."

Paul shrugged and waved one arm while finishing a sentence on his notepad. "She has a crush on him? Thinks she can land a ride on his glorious dick?" He chuckled for half a second before he was almost pushed off his chair with a furious grunt.

"Hey. Be good." Negan snapped his fingers for boy number one to behave and bent back down over his shoulder to write another add-on underneath the corrected report.

_Awesome report, sweetheart! Proud of you!_

He drew a tiny, happy puppy behind his praise and made it wear a crown on its head, then put the pencil down but kept both hands flat on the sides of the paper, his arms propped left and right from Daryl's head. "Paul is right. She thinks you are hot, and she is damn right about it. Unfortunately, she is also too fucking immature to express her admiration appropriately. Next time she laughs and hits you with a towel you grab yours and fucking smack her back. Tell her to grow the fuck up." 

Paul hollered triumphantly over his paper. "Woohoo! Savage!"

Negan tapped the table twice with a flat hand and straightened back to full size with a sigh. "And next time she pulls down your swim trunks you come and fucking tell me. " He arched a brow when his sub craned his head back with a slightly puzzled look. "Touching other people's swimwear without permission gets your fucking disrespectful, creepy arse banned from training. Right?" He brushed three fingers through tousled hair. "Now go wash, brush your teeth and draw me a bath. Daddy needs to soak the old bones for a while."

\----

"No doggy bag for me?" Paul opened the fridge door even though Daryl was still busy to draw a blue mark on his weekly reward chart. "But I live for dumplings!" He pushed it shut, sounding absolutely despondent.

"Your boyfriend brought leftovers." Negan came out of the bedroom wearing a bathrobe to his still-damp hair. "But you're not off duty yet." He patted Daryl's ass cheek. "I said I'm looking forward to a lazy morning fuck."

Jesus purred, tipping his head to the right as he rose up on his tip-toes to be closer to Negan's freshly trimmed scruff. "I still want that badge you know?" He nipped a sharp jaw bone. " _Keeper of the Butt_. It's only fair. I earned the title."

Negan snorted. "Yeah right. Ask me again in a year from now."

Paul smirked, "I will. Mark my words." kissed Negan's cheek, "Sleep well, Sir. I'll switch the cameras off when we're done."

"Good boy." Negan pressed a kiss to Paul's forehead and then addressed his other sub, who was still busy to fix the hopelessly crooked blue mark at the fridge door. "It's alright." He took the marker and put the cap back on. "You wanna go prepare for me now?"

"Okay." Daryl sniffed his nose and quickly tried to rub the failed blue line with his finger so it wouldn't stick out of the frame anymore. 

Negan grabbed his boy's finger and took it off the fridge, wanting eye contact. "Where do you wanna go to do that."

"0-21." Daryl answered it confidently because he knew the answer was right. Room 0-21 was the sub room now. 

The little wicked sparkle flickering through blue eyes caused the corner of Negan's mouth to tip up. "Yeah? Who will take you down there?"

Daryl sniffed his nose once more, pointing a slightly insecure finger at Jesus because he hoped it was right. "He will." A second later he was sure when the man in question threw both arms in the air like Rocky Balboa after a victorious fight.

Negan nodded a challenging chin at his sub. "Tell me why."

Daryl exhaled nervously, lifting one shoulder. "You said he's responsible." ...and then melted a little into the expensive hardwood floor when his reply got praised instantly with a deep, rewarding voice and long fingers pulling him close by the front of his shirt. 

"Good job. I did say he's responsible to take care of that pretty ass of yours, right?" Negan brushed his lips over Daryl's blushing cheek. "Keep it clean and ready for me. Make sure it heals well after I flog you." 

"Hh." Daryl wanted to nod but wasn't sure if he really did when his eyes fluttered shut and the mentioned body part throbbed and clenched somewhere deep inside. He really liked room 0-21 and all the new arrangements.

"Mhm. You wanna go with Paul now and let him plug you up so I can fuck you first thing in the morning?"

"Okay." This time Daryl was sure that he was nodding vehemently because he rubbed his face against the thick terry cloth of Negan's bathrobe.

"Okay." Negan pressed a kiss to the top of his sub's head. "Chop chop then. Don't forget the lube."

\----

Simon had joked once that room 0-21 looked like a pet groomer's workspace. White tiles everywhere from floor to ceiling, a wall-to-wall vanity with tiled countertop and a big sink on the left side, a toilet in the back corner and a built-in shelf with all the sub-safe tools and toys needed to shave, wax, prepare and clean. The sink had a hose with nozzle, the countertop an optional padding to sit and lie on, and a laminated handwritten sign decorated the wall with the basic rules: _**Cameras on at all times, no dick in any hole, no bullshit**_. Just like in the kennel there was video surveillance but with an added intercom system that allowed the tops of the household to interfere. It was Rick's responsibility to keep the room stocked up and clean, and even though he bitched a lot about it, he did a flawless job. 

The room wasn't meant for sex but got designed purely to have a private, neutral space to keep a sub's body presentable and ready. But ever since Paul Rovia got introduced to this holy temple of subservientness, he appointed himself the major and used it several times a day, alone or together with Daryl who didn't seem to mind the new bathroom even though he wasn't a big fan of washing in any form.

Kneeling on top of the vanity, chest and head down on the soft padding, knees spread and ass up for best accessibility. The first few times he had felt slightly embarrassed and resistant bringing himself in such a position, especially with cameras all around. But now after almost a month of using room 0-21, he didn't mind at all and even found it very enjoyable to be cleaned, groomed and pampered by another person.

"Masterpiece." Jesus drew back, in awe of the twitching pink opening right in front of his nose. "I should sign it and have it displayed at the Louvre." He pulled it apart once more with both of his thumbs, gave it a last lick and then went to select a plug from the shelf. Not too big since it was supposed to be used all through the night, but wide enough to preserve his work for Daddy number one to enjoy in the morning. "This one?" He held a purple silicon plug up.

Daryl lifted his head off the padding to glance back over his shoulder. "Nah." He nodded towards a black one in medium size with a flat base. "Black."

Jesus shrugged and threw his first choice back onto the shelf, making two other plugs and a dildo fall over and roll to the floor. Instead, he grabbed the one Daryl wanted and selected a bottle of lube to go with it. "Will you really smack Tina?" He snapped the cap open and squirted a generous amount of the translucent gel in and around the loosened entrance. 

"Hja." Daryl huffed a laugh, tensing for a second because the lube was cold, but then pushed his butt out even more, when Jesus started to work it in.

"Man, I wanna be there. I want to see her face."

Daryl didn't answer but buried his face into the warm padding with a grunt as the plug got slowly inserted. He loved the brief moment when it seemed far too big to fit, right before it just slipped in and everything throbbed and pulsed around it, instantly making his dick spill some thick drops of precum.

"Okay? You like it?" Paul rubbed the back of Daryl's thighs.

"Hm." Daryl nodded and then slowly turned around, trying not to sit in the small puddle of fluid he had created.

"Don't worry, one of my Dads will clean it up later." Paul wiped his hands with a small towel and helped Daryl to put a pajama top on. Light grey and tight.

Daryl pulled it over his head and sniffed his nose, not protesting when his wild hair got smoothed down by gentle fingers. "'s he mad about it?" His question sounded a bit gruff but Jesus didn't seem to mind.

"No." He smiled softly, standing between the other man's spread legs, hands on his bare thighs. "He just acts all grumpy but secretly he really likes it. He's much happier since we moved here. It's good for him to have them both around."

"Hm." Daryl chewed the inside of his bottom lip, hands propped on the edge of the vanity top. He wasn't sure yet how to feel about Rick being around Negan much more. And he still didn't understand his weird place in the group, sometimes as an equal to the tops and just a moment later a submissive ranking below everyone. It was strange but nobody else seemed confused so he didn't want to mention it.

Paul studied Daryl's face, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. "Are you happy that we moved here?"

A beam of happiness instantly lit up Daryl's features and he answered without hesitation. "Yes." Because he really was. Everything was better now. They all seemed to benefit from the new structure Negan had built and no matter where he went in the factory, he never felt alone, not even when he was the only one in the room because the cameras were everywhere. Negan still worked a lot but wasn't as stressed and tired anymore. Obeying the rules had gotten much easier, too and being able to do so many cool things without having to leave the house was just awesome. It was like a little perfect world of their own where most ugly things didn't exist or at least were very far away. It was a safe space, more than ever.

"Right?" Paul seemed to be very relieved to hear that. "It's so awesome! And what he did with the house... I mean come on, it's factory 2.0, the ultimate man cave!" He grinned, wagging a brow. "A kinky man cave."

Daryl snorted and dropped his gaze when Paul stepped even closer. "Yes." 

"Now we only need a moat around the building to keep all the strangers out."

"Hm." He smiled, closing his eyes as a warm nose nudged the side of his own. For a moment there was nothing but silence, then a hand slid past his ear and an arm snaked around his hip. Paul's middle pressed against his bare crotch, making him exhale a very low, very soft breath before he parted his lips a bit for a silky tip of tongue. It made his heart thump all through his chest and one of his own hands found the way onto Paul's bottom. He squeezed it and groaned into the kiss, spreading his legs wider. 

Paul panted and grabbed both of Daryl's asscheeks, slowly starting to pump his hips. "Really wanna fuck you... wish I'd be a-" 

_"WISH YOU'D BE ABLE TO REMEMBER THE FUCKING RULES?!"_ The sudden loud voice blaring from the intercom speaker made both men jump. _"GOOD THING I'VE WRITTEN THEM DOWN FOR YOU AND PLASTERED THEM TO THE GOD DAMN FUCKING WALL!"_

Paul wiped his mouth and pointlessly fumbled with the still folded pants of Daryl's pajamas. "Oh hey, Sir? We just wanted to finish here..."

_"Yeah, I know what you wanted to fucking finish! Move your ass upstairs and tell Rick you're done!"_

"I will! Have a good night, Sir!" Jesus waved to no one in particular, quickly kissed Daryl's shoulder and hurried out of the room.

_"Boy."_

Daryl's head shot up, not sure whether Negan was on the left or right camera. "Hm?" He closed his legs and put a hand over his bare crotch in addition.

The voice from the intercom softened somewhat. _"Pants on, lights off, my bed."_

"Hm." Daryl nodded once and awkwardly slid off the tiled countertop, accidentally putting his hand into the remains of lube and precum. He held it up for a second, then wanted to wipe it into his shirt, but in the end, he tried to smear it back onto the white faux leather padding he had been sitting on.

_"It's okay. Rick'll come and clean it for me."_

Daryl glanced up to where the voice had been coming from. "I can do it." He really could. It wasn't fair that the Cowboybootsguy got to do all cleaning jobs for Negan.

_"It's Rick's chore, you have yours. Pants on, lights off, take your pretty face to my bed. Chop, chop... fuckin' puppy."_

  



	2. Tribe

Daryl frowned as he entered the factory through the club entrance and saw that there was still light coming from Negan's office at almost one in the morning. He stopped in front of the door, hesitating a moment before he opened it. The voice he heard was Negan's, he was sure of that. But the language he used didn't sound familiar at all. 

"Non, je veux le magasin dans la Rue de Rivoli. C'est la seul avec assez d'espace et un emplacement privilégié. Convaincre le propriétaire."

He sniffed his nose and cautiously pushed the door open, seeing a tall man in white t-shirt and slightly tousled hair at the desk, phone in one hand while the other operated the touchpad of the computer.

"Non, je seras la pour une convention en tout cas." Negan saw his sub entering the room and signaled him with a small wave of one finger to sit down. "Mhm. Oui."

Daryl quietly shut the door and instead of having a seat on the grey couch, sank down to sit on the carpet, crossing his legs. He took his wrist wallet off and emptied it, glancing up briefly when Negan laughed and leaned back comfortably in his big leather desk chair.

"Sans doute. Yeah." 

It made him smile a little to hear Negan speak in a foreign language. It sounded weird. 

"Bien. Faites-le moi savoir dès que possible. Oui. Bye." Negan ended the call, made a couple of notes, shut his tabs and finally the laptop before he gave his attention to the man on the ground. "How was work?"

Daryl flicked his head, "Good." and after a moment decided to ask something back. "'n yours?"

"How was my workday?" Negan took a pile of paper folders and brought them into the right order. "Successful. Thank you for asking."

"Hm." Daryl smiled, happy with the conversation, and went back to count his money. It had been Tequila-night at the Eagle and that always meant a lot of tip for the busboy. 

"Look at all that dough. Are you a rich puppy tonight?"

"Hm." He held up two of the 20 dollar bills he had received.

Negan pursed his lips, giving an impressed nod. "Not bad. Looks like we both have been fucking successful."

"You can have it." Daryl slid a couple of inches forward on the carpet, holding the money up even higher.

Negan smiled, putting a document into his drawer. "That's very generous, but the money you earn at the Eagle is yours, right? It goes into your bank account."

Daryl scratched the back of his head as he watched how Negan cleaned up his desk. For 72 silent seconds. "Brock gives money to his partner." He wasn't sure whether Jake was really Brock's partner, but they kissed sometimes and Brock called him Master.

"Mhm. How do you know?" Negan moved back with his chair to pick up a pen that had fallen to the floor.

Daryl shrugged. "Told me." And he had seen it too. All the tip that Brock received he brought to Jake and got his hair ruffled for it.

Negan sighed, noticing the pen was broken. He must have crushed it with the wheels of his chair earlier. "It's called financial domination. Jakey boy expects his subs to hand over all the money they earn and I guess Brock is happy to comply. But personally-" He put the broken pen into the other drawer, shut it and sat up straight again, folding his hands on the table. "I don't like that. I prefer to provide for my submissive. My job and my lifestyle allow me to do so and it makes me happy. Right? You can use your money for anything you like. But you're my sub and that means I pay for the essentials." 

Daryl wasn't sure whether he was maybe a little bit jealous of Brock for being allowed to give his owner money, after all it was the only thing he had to give as a present. "Can pay for your essentials." The offer sounded a bit gruff but he meant it nice.

"Yeah?" Negan suppressed a smirk. "What would that be."

Daryl shrugged, thinking a moment, then wiped a finger over his lips. "Lipstick."

"It's a chapstick and I already have one in every pocket and a couple in the car. " 

"Kale 'n chia." 

Negan sighed, "Fuckin' puppy." got up and slowly walked around his desk to squat down in front of it, picking up all the dollar bills and coins from the carpet to store it back into his sub's wrist wallet. He zipped it up and held it out for Daryl to take. "I give you a place to live. Food, something to wear, a phone, books to read and all that shit. Right?"

"Hm." Daryl shifted insecurely on his place on the ground. "Right."

"What do I get in return. Tell me."

His gaze dropped and he grimaced, mumbling a gruff reply. "Nothin'." 

Negan tapped the solid steel around his sub's neck with the tip of his finger. "Everything. Can't put a price tag on the submission you offer. Giving me the power over all this-" He circled his hand in front of Daryl's blushed features, "-is the absolute jackpot. The biggest fuckin' dream come true for someone like me." and after a pause to let his message sink in, rose back to his feet, tucking a strand of hair behind a pale ear. "Wanna come upstairs with me now and watch the late news?" 

"Hm." Daryl peered up through tousled bangs, nodding once. He really wanted to do that. And serve a beer, put Negan's towel on the heater in the bathroom, and then present in bed like the best sub in the universe.

"Good. Chop chop then." Negan went to hold the door open, switched the lights off and led the way up through the quiet staircase. 

As they passed the fairly new brown door on the second level, Daryl nudged his owner's wrist. "Are you payin' for Jesus?"

"Most things, yes. Shane covers the rest."

"Where's his money?"

"Paul has a bank account as well. But he has to ask before he uses it so he won't buy any bullshit."

"Hm." Daryl tripped on the stairs but didn't fall because a hand shot out to grab him safely by the upper arm. 

"You wanna focus on me now."

He mumbled a small 'Okay' before adding a more polite 'Yes, Sir' that made his guts tingle strangely.

"Better." Negan unlocked the door to his apartment and held it open. "Shoes off, do your mark, report and get ready for the night. Then you may join me on the couch." 

Daryl sat down in the hallway to untie his shoes and watched as a very charismatic man took his boots off, put his keys on the dresser, checked his phone... and walked on impossibly long legs into the living room.

... and he thought it really was the jackpot and totally a dream come true.

\----

On Tuesday afternoon Paul Rovia was usually at the store to help Rick, but not today. He wasn't in the apartment either, not in the sub room and not on the roof with the new sundeck. So Daryl decided to ask other people for a clue. "Where's Jesus." Maybe his question sounded a bit rude but it wasn't meant that way.

Shane put the sledgehammer down, wiping his forehead with the back of his dusty work glove. "Not at the store?"

"Mh." Daryl shook his head. Shane stood in the remains of a brick wall, the one that had separated the trash containers from the box of road salt.

Joey put one of the bricks down he was about to pile up and glanced on his watch, sweat dripping off his red face. "It's almost 3, he's certainly in the classroom."

"Ah, right." Shane wiped his forehead again, then pointed to the left. "He's holding a workshop." 

"Hm." Daryl hadn't known that and it was kind of disappointing because he really wanted to show Paul the bike he had finished. "I can help." He sniffed his nose, nodding to the rest of the wall that was still intact.

"No, it's alright. We're almost done." Shane pulled the bandana back over his mouth and nose. "You can join the workshop. It's for subs." 

Daryl wrinkled his nose but didn't say anything when Joey stepped a few inches to the left and Shane drove the hammer with full force back into the wall, creating more dust and debris.

\----

Room 23 wasn't the one Paul held his 'How to be a better submissive'-workshop in. He didn't draw a big crowd like Negan, especially because his classes were meant for s-types only. And he preferred to entertain the 42 people attending in a more private environment, in the much smaller demo-room next door. He sat on the ground, on a little pillow and he offered the same casual seating arrangement to all of his listeners who gathered around him like a bunch of kids at storytime.

Daryl stopped in the doorway and just peeked into the room, not really wanting to be seen or join the event. All the young men sitting on the ground looked far too pretty and he hated the fact that Paul told them all the secrets on how to be good and receive more raisins or blue marks. 

"-but I would encourage you to think about it that way? A Dominant is not a slot machine where you put in submissive points and get a flogging back out or some decent bondage. You know? They are not a need fulfillment object. Being a Dominant takes energy. And getting some positive feedback from you might be nice to them. Please don't assume that they can guess your appreciation based on your submission alone. A Dominant deserves to know how much you care about them. Remind them that you see and appreciate the work and energy behind the scenes, the thought and time they put into your relationship and certain dynamic. That could be through verbal affirmation, but you could also offer further submission. Little extras that you normally wouldn't do. Take off their coat, prepare a dessert they really like, give a massage, draw them a bath. BUT, boys... always remember that you are in a power exchange dynamic and that means, instead of doing such things automatically, you offer them. Say, 'Sir, would you like me to bring you a Scotch and Soda.' Or 'Would you like me to draw you a bath.' Always give them a choice. It is important to show respect towards the protocol and the power they hold over you."

Daryl scowled through the crack of the door, kind of taken aback by what he heard. He had never really thought about special ways to show his appreciation. He had never taken off Negan's coat, had never prepared any dessert, and he only drew a bath when he was specifically asked to do so. Maybe Negan was already very sad or disappointed or felt like an object. And he really didn't know why Jesus had never said anything about it before, but now held an entire workshop on the topic to total strangers. It made him angry, and he drew the door shut, a little too loud maybe, and then left to sit alone in the sub room. For 51 minutes. Then there was a knock at the door and a tall man with clipboard and coffeecup entered.

"Everything alright?"

Daryl glanced up and rose to his feet, wiping the back of his pants even though the floor was perfectly clean. "Hm."

"One." Negan arched his brows in a warning.

Daryl lifted his shoulders, "'m alright." and after two seconds added a low 'Sir' to his answer.

"Better." Negan held the coffeecup out for his sub to take a sip. "Do you need help in here? Are you waiting for Paul?"

Daryl drank and at the same time tried to shake his head because it was okay not to speak with a mouth full of coffee. He glanced up though for eye contact and when the cup was taken away he chose to quickly change the subject. "'can fill the tub for you." His offer sounded a bit gruff but he meant it really nice.

"You wanna draw me a bath at 4:14 in the afternoon?" Negan tugged his sub's shirt at the right shoulder to adjust it. "Do I reek that bad?" The display of pure shock on a rather pale face and instant 'No' he got for an answer made him smirk. "No?" He stepped closer and straightened his shoulders, offering his chest for an odor test. "Wanna make sure?"

Daryl dropped his head against his owner's bright white, fresh-smelling shirt to hide his face and stupidity. "'can make a sammich."

Negan squinted, not sure whether he had understood the mumbled proposal correctly. "You wanna make me a sandwich?" He put a hand to the back of his boy's head, "That's a kind offer but I am not hungry right now." then placed a kiss on tousled hair. "You may do some work for me though. Could use help at the office." It wasn't really true but he sensed that Daryl needed to get some submissive energy out. A tiny 'Okay' mumbled into his shirt made him share another kiss before he drew back and handed the clipboard and cup over. "Good. Chop, chop then. Cameras and lights off. Don't spill my coffee."

\----

Cleaning out Negan's big work desk wasn't exactly the form of extra submission Daryl had planned to offer but he worked diligently on the task he'd been given. Sorting all the papers, pens and other office equipment, vacuuming out the drawers before reorganizing them, wiping down all surfaces. He also shredded 15 sensitive documents, watered the three plants that lived in the office, emptied the trash bin and arranged the bottles and glasses on the liquor cart in a better way. Then he sat down in the big leather chair and chose a few important things that got to sit on top of the desk, including a current project, the phone, a sea shell from Florida, and frequently used tools such as the calculator, scissors, markers, and his owner's favorite fountain pen. As he wanted to stick it into the silver pencil cup though he noticed that it was broken. 

Negan glanced up from his place on the couch where he worked on his laptop, the right leg casually resting on his left knee. "Are you done?"

"Hm." Daryl flicked a strand of tousled hair out of his face. "Yes."

"Looks great. Good job."

He nodded once, trying to keep his lips from smiling. 

Negan didn't. "You wanna go now and spend some time with Paul?" 

Daryl shrugged, then sniffed his nose after a brief time of consideration. "'can go for a ride."

"You sure can." Negan quickly scrolled through a list of e-mails. "You wanna take one of my bikes?"

Daryl shrugged again. "Okay." He really wanted to do that and he already knew which one he would take. "Your Triumph." A black Tiger 800 XCA. He loved it.

"Okay." Negan typed a short answer to an urgent request, sent it and looked up again, giving his full attention to the man sitting at his desk. "You wanna wear your gear, be back in time for dinner and don't fucking crash my bike or I'll cage you for a week." He got a very sincere nod and copied it. "Good. You may go then. Have fun."

\----

It wasn't a very long ride to Office Depot on Peachtree Industrial Blvd and Daryl felt a bit sneaky about it but also very excited when he found the exact same Cross Bailey executive-style fountain pen that Negan had owned and liked so much until it broke by accident. It had a shiny chrome barrel and came with a pack of black ink cartridges for a price of $57.99, that he paid for with his own money. The man at the checkout counter put it into a small bag along with the receipt and smiled as he thanked the customer for the purchase. 

Daryl carried it proudly out of the door and slipped it over the handlebar of Negan's motorbike to transport it safely back to the factory, thinking of all the silly workshop-sluts who surely didn't have such a great idea to show their Dominant appreciation.

At Commerce Drive he had to stop at red lights and glanced to the left, seeing a guy washing the windows at Dan and Sandy's little travel agency. Thick white suds slid down the wet pane, partly covering the poster behind. It showed a big giraffe and a sand-colored Jeep in the savannas of Africa. It looked awesome and made Daryl first squint and then smile as the lights turned green and he continued his ride back home, suddenly having all sorts of new plans to spend his Eagle-money and make his overworked owner happy. 

\----

Olivia had made a really great pasta dish for dinner with lots of pistachios, broccoli, and lemon. Daryl requested a second serving and only refrained from taking a third one because Negan used his napkin, cleared his throat and pushed his chair back with a scraping sound on the expensive hardwood floor as he got up to sit on the couch for a while.

Daryl glanced back over his shoulder, scratched his ear and then got up as well. He carried the empty dishes to the sink, wiped the table... and then felt a bit shy when he stood in front of Negan's long legs, asking a small, rather gruff question. "You wan' a Scotch 'n Soda?" He ended his offer with a sniff of his nose. 

Negan needed a moment to peel his eyes off the phone screen, busy to flip through a bunch of product photos Anne had sent him. "Yeah. Thanks." His face softened with the ghost of a smile. "No soda, though."

Daryl sniffed his nose once more. "Hm." Now that he thought about it, Negan had never asked for a Scotch and Soda before. Probably because it didn't taste very good.

"How do I prefer my drink?"

He held two fingers up because it was evening. "With ice."

"Good boy." Negan nudged his sub's foot with the tip of his boot.

Daryl felt happy anyway that his offered extra submission was partly accepted and went to select one of the heavy whiskey tumblers, put two ice cubes in and poured two fingers worth of Scotch before taking the glass carefully back to the sofa. "'s your drink, Sir."

"Thank you." Negan took it blindly, brought it close to his nose to inhale the aroma, and then took a sip while swiping his finger over the phone screen. "Rick asks whether we meet in the lounge for a bit." He pushed a button and lifted his right butt cheek out of the seat to tuck the phone away, looking up. "Wanna go?"

Daryl shrugged, grimacing. He liked to sit in the lounge with the others because it was always fun to listen to their stories. But today he didn't really want to go because he had planned to show his appreciation to his owner.

"No?" 

He shrugged again and probably answered a bit uncourteous with a wave of his forearm towards the kitchen where he had hidden his gift in the delftware onion container. "'had plans."

"Is that true." Negan didn't correct the harsh tone, actually surprised by his boy's answer. "What kind of plans?"

Daryl grumbled towards his shoes. "With you."

"Hm. Tell me about them."

He crinkled his nose, silently clenching his fists in search of an answer. And after six seconds of pondering, sighed and went to get the gift. It wasn't wrapped yet and somehow he felt embarrassed when he held the small plastic bag out, mumbling a gruff. "'s for you." In his head, he had imagined it very differently. With big red bows and heartfelt words of appreciation. Not awkward like this.

Negan squinted, pulling a still packaged fountain pen out of the crinkled bag. It was the model he preferred. The one he had owned for a long time and just recently broke. "You replaced my pen?" He had to admit he was more than surprised. And very touched. Especially when he looked up and a young man tried to hide his beautiful, abashed face behind long bangs.

"Hm."

"You spent your hard-earned money for me?"

Daryl shrugged, his cheeks and ears growing warm. Before something very happy poked his stomach as the man on the couch got slowly up and without a comment pulled him close. One hand on his lower back, the other on his hip. He was looked at in silence with a little smile, and then kissed. Really kissed, deep and serious, making him lift up on his toes a bit. It stole his breath, made him hold onto strong upper arms, and almost forget all about the gift he had just made.

"That was fuckin thoughtful." Negan spoke against his boy's lips and nipped them again. "Thank you so much. Should I write you a love letter with it?" 

Daryl kept very still, totally captivated by all the affection. "'kay." He wasn't so sure whether love letters could be for men, too, but he really wanted one if it was from Negan. 

"Yeah?" Negan swiped his tongue between parted lips, just briefly. "Will you put it underneath your pillow?"

Daryl wanted to nod, opened his eyes, closed them again and exhaled a shattered breath as he tried to go back to more kissing. And his wish was granted.

"Yeah, you will, right..." 

He was grabbed with more vigor and his mouth was claimed fully. A hand roamed through his hair at the back of his head, the other traced the curve of his buttocks, up and down, teased his hidden crack, and then squeezed to emphasize the deep groan rumbling from deep within a broad chest. It made his knees weak and his heart jump. He dug his fingers into Negan's arms, clung to his solid body and really wanted to undress and present on the big bed... when suddenly everything stopped.

"What's that?" Negan squeezed his sub's butt again, making the paper in his back pocket rustle.

Daryl pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist, then tucked a strand of tousled hair behind his ear while he tried to sort his wild tumbling mind. "'s for you."

"Mhm. You don't wanna wipe my spit off or I'll keep it next time." Negan tipped his head to the left and slowly pulled the folded paper out, holding it up between fore-, and middlefinger. "May I read it?"

"Hm." Daryl licked his lips, feeling really bad that he had wiped his mouth. "Yes."

Negan sat back down on the sofa while simultaneously unfolding the letter and snapping his fingers towards the free space between his legs. It was a crinkled paper out of a cheap notepad and it had a pretty good pencil drawing of an elephant in its middle along with one sentence written in surprisingly error-free handwriting. 

'I am very thankful and want to pay for your vacation. Daryl' 

He read it, squinted, smiled and took the letter down to look at his sub. "You wanna bath me, make me food, serve me drinks, buy me stuff and now you wanna send me on a fucking vacation? Did the doctor call? Will I die?"

Daryl scowled on his place on the ground. "No."

"No?" Negan reached out to pinch his boy's chin. "You joined Paul's new class today?"

The scowl grew deeper and got instantly prohibited when Negan chuckled, sighed and pushed Daryl's head down into his crotch. "That class isn't meant for someone like you. You show me 24/7 how much you value me and my work. I see it in your eyes every fucking time you look at me like I am the Lord of goddamnfucking Atlanta." He pulled three long strands of hair slowly through his fingers. "There are subs who do it just for their own benefit. They sub to get their needs met. They often take advantage of their Dom. They enjoy to live with them for free, go shopping with their credit card, and they know they get the fuck away with it because they own a cute ass." He grasped Daryl's chin and gently pulled it up for eye contact. "Right? You are not like that. You are humble and very respectful. You're not after any of my shit. You always think of me first. You've always been in the right mindset."

Daryl scrunched up his nose, scratching two fingernails along Negan's thigh. "'never do somethin' extra." 

"Because you are respectful. You know I fucking dig to be in control. I'll tell you when I want something and that's the way I prefer it. And this-" Negan lifted the packaged pen. "-is fuckin' special, not because you spend your money. It's special because you are so observant and so fucking focused on me that you know out of all the trillion pens in my house which one's my goddamnfucking favorite. And you know that I am bummed to see it broken. That's the real gift. You focus on me, and not just in the bedroom."

"Hm." It was the truth and Daryl felt all tingly because of it. He really did focus on Negan and he loved doing it.

"Mh." Negan brushed some hair out of his sub's face, enjoying that it was happy even without a visible smile. "So how about I pay for our vacation and you keep me company?"

"'kay." Daryl half-shrugged. He could do that.

"Okay." Negan took the pen and nudged his sub's ear with it. "Then take my fantastic puppy pen to the office now, so I'll have it ready in the morning when I start work. And then join me and my awesome drink at the lounge."

\----

The club's lounge was often used like a big, shared living room since the Grimes/Walshes had moved to the Leather Factory and for some reason, the Cowboyboots-guy sat in a chair tonight like the other two Doms in the room. Daryl didn't really question the sudden propensity-switch, though because nothing had changed for him. He was still supposed to sit on the floor with Jesus. Casually, not on their knees, while they were going through a large box of fanmail Negan had received. A lot of letters and just as many parcels, the collected mail from an entire month.

"Ha! Food!" Mister Rovia was delighted to find a box of strange, black gummy bears from Denmark among all the self knitted scarfs and various impact play tools with attached 'please think of me when you use it'-notes. "I wonder whether it tastes like Twizzlers." He ripped the bag open with both hands, sniffed it, "Uh, anise!" and then was nudged with a heavy biker boot before he was able to try one."Hh?" 

"I said don't eat anything from the fucking mail." 

"But I'm starving and it's from Ludvig." He glanced up, giving Negan a despondent look.

Rick sipped his root beer straight from the bottle. "Who's Ludvig?"

Paul shrugged, grabbing the letter that came with the candy. "I don't know but he writes that this is a delicacy from his country and he wants to share it with his favorite Daddy. He also sends you this Viking jewelry." He held up a sturdy silver necklace with a round pendant.

Daryl scowled at the evil letter, hating Ludvig and his whole country with a vengeance.

Negan didn't plan to repeat himself and just waved two fingers in the direction of a big brown cardboard box that was already filled to the brim with all the well-intentioned displays of love his loyal fanbase used to shower him with. 

Paul exhaled in annoyance and threw both the necklace and candy bag into the 'Will be checked later for possible poison attacks from homophobic lunatics'-box. "Happy now? I'm starving."

Shane grinned with a shake of the head. "We just had dinner."

"Yes, with a whole kindergarten group of baby fish on top." Paul flashed his eyes at one of his dads. "I dare you, Sir, watch 'Finding Nemo'."

"It was regular size anchovies." Rick squinted uncomprehendingly. "It's a normal pizza topping."

Jesus grabbed a new parcel from the pile to busy himself, mumbling too low for most people to hear. "Yeah, tell that to the big man at the pearly gates." He read the address label on the box, saying 'Puppy' instead of Negan and handed it over. "For you."

Daryl took it and instantly glanced up at the tall man sitting in the big leather armchair right next to him.

Negan gave a nod. "Yeah, go ahead."

It was the first parcel Daryl received directly, even though he had technically gotten fanmail before. But it was always some weird sex toy stuff or a leash and collar that Negan was asked to use on him. It all had been thrown away immediately. But this time when he tore the box open it contained a coiled up bullwhip wrapped into a nice piece of black tissue paper and a handwritten note lay on top of it. 'To the best sub in the community. I admire you. -love, Pup Rico'

"Oh wow." Jesus slid closer, resting his chin on Daryl's shoulder to read the note and then chuckled. "Pup-Rico. Get it?"

"Hm?" Daryl unwrapped the whip, giving Paul a puzzled glance. The whip was really nice and heavy.

"Pup-Ri-co." Jesus bit Daryl's shirt. "Paprika?"

Daryl still didn't get it but offered a tiny smile anyway while Shane just groaned and shook his head. 

Jesus sighed and gracefully rose to his feet. "You are not my audience tonight. Going to tinkle."

"Sst." Negan stopped him briefly, grabbing his wrist. "Get an apple and some nuts on the way back." He got a smile in return, soft and kind of surprised. "Chop, chop. Don't forget to wash your hands."

\----

Years of living alone with his dog and the occasional one-night-stand as the only company after very long workdays had led Negan's inveterate bachelor heart to believe that this was the optimal lifestyle for him. Maybe a bit lonely at times but at least the only things he had to worry about were his business and the right entertainment for his dick. 

It was funny, because when he looked around now, comfortably seated in his heavy leather lounge chair, he had to admit he was a big fan of the new living arrangements. Having Daryl around 24/7 was an absolute joy and sharing the huge premises of his home with a few friends hadn't been the worst idea either. It was nice to have somebody to talk to. It was nice to see the shift of energy with new people on board. It was nice to delegate some duties and responsibilities to others here and there, at least partly. In a nutshell: It was nice. 

Shane was pretty decent company. Unobtrusive most of the time, very much present when needed. They shared the same sense of humor and many preferences in the playroom. They were also on the same page on most things, which made life with two and a half subs a lot easier. 

"No, she thought it's a swing chair for the cat." Shane snorted a laugh as he remembered the first time when Lori came by unannounced and found a leather sling dangling from the living room ceiling. 

"Since when do you have a fucking cat?" Negan handed Rick a tissue to work on the mysterious chocolate stain next to his breast pocket. "I thought Carl is allergic."

Rick squinted, rubbing his ruined new shirt with all the frustration the embarrassing memory evoked. "We never had a cat."

Shane grinned behind his bottle. "Paul had a pet frog at the time. What was its name?"

Rick pulled the stained fabric of his shirt out to evaluate the cleaning progress. "Egmond."

Negan was almost through his second drink, chuckling against the rim of the glass. "Ugly critter." He shook his head, remembering the weird cross-eyed creature, and then glanced back over his shoulder when he heard a loud 'SHUT UP 'S NOT TRUE!' in gruff voice, coming from the back of the club where he had sent boy number one and two to test the new bullwhip. "HEY!" He raised his voice instantly. "What the fuck is going on back there, I told you to fucking behave!" He got brief silence in return before a very friendly, very innocent voice answered. 

"Nothing, Sir, we're just talking!"

A grumpy voice seemed to disagree with a hushed but very passionate 'You're lyin'!'

"I am not! They even have a list ab-" Paul laughed and then didn't get to finish his sentence when he was pushed hard.

Shane sighed and got up, put his almost empty bottle on the bar counter and 62 seconds later came back with a coiled up bullwhip in one hand, Paul's ear in the other, and a very grumpy young man following behind. "Sit." He pushed his boyfriend into one of the free lounge chairs and handed the bullwhip to Rick. "Put it in the playroom when we leave."

Negan didn't lose his relaxed posture, sipping his drink as he examined the man standing with lowered head and clenched fists right in front of him. "Did you push him?"

Daryl scrunched up his nose, waving an angry forearm in Paul's direction. "He's talkin' shit about you!"

Paul pulled his worn-down chucks up on the seat to sit cross-legged, laughing. "I did not!" 

"Ksst." Negan snapped his fingers, expecting eye contact with boy number one. "Look at me." It took 14 seconds before his wish was granted, but he had the patience to wait. "What did he say about me?"

Daryl grimaced, feeling horrible and very angry that he was forced to say it out loud. And when he finally did, it sounded absolutely impolite. "You're not allowed in other countries." As soon as his explanation was out he avoided his eyes, glaring daggers at his shoes.

"Noo! That's not true!" Paul laughed again, gesturing with both hands. "I said homosexuals cannot travel everywhere because they will probably end up in jail or with a death penalty!"

Daryl spun around, a furious finger in Paul's face. "SHUT UP!"

"HEY!" Negan's tone made clear that he wouldn't allow any more bullshit. He paused two seconds and then ordered his outraged sub back. "Here. Now."

Daryl was breathing hard, his heart hammering in his chest as loud as the pulse in his ears but he turned around and went back, sinking down between his owner's legs.

Shane used the opportunity to signal for Paul to be quiet for a while, holding a finger to his lips.

Jesus sent a tiny smile back, zipping his lips before throwing an invisible key back over his shoulder.

Rick spat on his paper tissue, then rubbed it in circles over the stubborn stain. "What's the problem. He's not a kindergartener. He should know."

Negan snapped his fingers once more harshly, this time for Mister Grimes to be quiet, before he addressed his upset boy in a much calmer tone. "Where do you want me to travel?"

Daryl glared at the floor, and didn't want to answer. He didn't want to talk ever again. To nobody.

Jesus did it for him. "Nigeria. To see the elephants."

"Paul." Shane sent a warning across the lounge area.

"Oops." It made Paul slump deeper into his chair, remembering the current rules.

"You wanna travel to Africa?" Something slightly unpleasant squeezed Negan's heart when he thought of the little letter he had read earlier, adorned with an elephant-pencil-drawing. "Wanna go on safari, just us guys?"

Daryl still didn't look up. He grumbled a very low 'Hm' instead while pulling his thumb.

"That would be great. I've been to Cape Town once, it's awesome."

He felt two percent better to hear that and gestured in Paul's direction. "Yeah, he said we can' go!"

Negan nodded, staying perfectly calm. "He is right. I won't take my boy to Nigeria. It's not a good place to travel for us and I couldn't guarantee your safety. But we can go to a million other places where the law is not a pile of cowshit."

Daryl looked up, his brows knitted in anger. "You can go where you want!"

Negan smiled. He had to. "I could, but when I'm on vacation I wanna roam freely, I wanna kiss my boy, I wanna wear what I want, I wanna fuck and curse as I goddamnfucking please. And in some countries the law was written by fucking shitheads and doesn't allow me to do so. That would fuck up my precious well-earned vacation, so I rather go to a place where they appreciate my fucking gorgeous dick and all the fucking amazing things I wanna do with it." 

Rick rolled his eyes. "Please."

Negan slowly turned towards his employee, one brow arched. "You wanna work on that fuckin' stain, boy."

Mister Grimes scowled. "I'm not your boy."

"Oh, you're not?"

"Shut up." He continued to clean his shirt with the sad remains of his tattered paper tissue, mumbling an unintelligible rant that wasn't directed at anyone in particular.

Jesus raised a finger, waiting patiently until Daddy number one gave him permission to speak with a slightly exasperated wave of two fingers. 

"What."

"Will you take your favorite baby Jesus on that Africa trip, Sir?" 

"Sure." Negan reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind Daryl's ear, feeling kind of pissed at all and sundry when he saw the still greatly perturbed expression on his face. "I'll lend you to the Tutsi. They'll teach you some manners." 

Jesus was fine with such an arrangement and whipped his phone out to study the best deals on Skyscanner. "That's alright, they're gorgeous and I totally dig their dance style."

"Well... that's settled then." Negan heaved out of his chair. "Chop, chop boy. Callin' it a night." He held a hand out for Daryl to help him up. "Grab my fucking licorice and all the other shit. Time for bed."

\----

Daryl had the order to brush his teeth for three minutes, but after 4 and a half he still stood at the sink and stared blankly at his reflection, working the foamy bristles in slow motion over his teeth. He was so deep in thought that he even jumped a little when all of sudden a second person appeared in the mirror and someone nipped his ear from behind.

"Did Olivia buy that fuckin' bubble gum toothpaste again?" Negan grabbed the tube to study the label, flicking it back onto the shelf when he read the reassuring word 'peppermint'. 

Daryl glanced back over his shoulder for half a second, brushed three times more and then spat out, rinsing his mouth. A small towel was held out for him and he used it to dry his mouth... before he looked up and created eye contact with the other man in the mirror. "You're not a fag. You like girls."

"It's called bisexual." Negan kept his tone neutral, knowing full well what his sub had been pondering about for the past 30 minutes. "And it wouldn't make a difference. The punishment isn't for what you identify as. It's for the action. If I engage with someone of the same sex, I am guilty in their eyes." He took the towel out of Daryl's fingers, wiped down the sink with it and then threw it into the laundry basket. "You wanna finish here and join me on the couch."

Daryl didn't look when Negan vanished from the mirror. He only saw his own fingers, nestling with each other on the polished white rim of the sink. He watched them for a long time. And he kept his gaze down once his feet moved off the soft bathmat and went after his owner.

The lights in the living room were dimmed, the TV was off and Negan sat on the big black leather sofa, one arm on the backrest. The other hand held a phone. 

Daryl wasn't asked to sit on the floor, no fingers were snapped, and for some reason he didn't feel like talking, so he sat down right next to Negan, as close as possible, resting his head against a white shirt. Instantly he felt much better. It was easier to breathe and when a big hand found the way into his hair, lazily stroking it, he even closed his eyes. And then opened them again when a deep voice asked him a question.

"Should I report today?"

"Hm?" He didn't want to move too much, fearing the comforting hand or chest would leave, but he glanced up a bit in an attempt to see Negan's face.

Negan didn't look back at him though. He finished something on his phone, switched it off, put it next to him on the sofa and then leaned back to sit even more comfortably, resting his jaw against Daryl's temple. "Good. I didn't kill fucking Joseph this morning when he scratched up my goddamnfucking car with the wheelbarrow. I landed a great deal with Swiss Navy. And I ate that weird shit Olivia cooked for lunch with a big fat smile on my fuckin' face."

Daryl chuckled. 

Negan poked a finger into his sub's ear. "You liked it?"

"Mh." Daryl had not liked it but he liked Olivia and didn't want to make her sad. "No." 

"Guess then we both have been good." Negan shrugged and then exhaled soundly through his lips when he tried to think of anything he had done badly that day. "Had seven cups of coffee today and a fucking chocolate bar."

Daryl sniffed his nose and put a consoling hand on his owner's chest.

Negan entwined their fingers. "I liked the breakfast you prepared this morning. Loved your new shirt. Looks fucking hot on you. I liked when Merle called. Fucking enjoyed to take you to the kennel and to wake you up later on. Loved how prudent and caring you've been all day. The drink was awesome. And most of fucking all I love the pen you got me and the letter you wrote. Made my week." 

Daryl didn't say anything, just chewed the inside of his lip while his stomach grew warm with happiness. He really more than liked Negan very very much.

"What I didn't like was when you pushed Paul." Negan paused and squeezed Daryl's hand in a warning. "I also fucking hate that I can't take you to Nigeria. I would change it if I could. Knock some fuckin' sense into people's heads."

Daryl turned to hide his face in soft fabric.

"Ksst." Negan tickled the back of his sub's collared neck. "Bonus. You wanna pay attention." He waited a moment until he got a tiny nod and hot breath soaked his shirt and the skin underneath. "It is not our fault. There's nothing we have to hide, not a damn thing we need to change. Gay people are everywhere. All over the world, here, in Africa, at the motherfucking north pole. And it's always been that way. Some of the most important people in history were gay. Great leaders. Kings and Queens. People worshiped queer gods and deities for millennia. We helped to shape the world and entire civilizations. Two guys fucking were fucking normal for centuries. It was so fucking insignificant that nobody blinked an eye, they didn't even have a word for it. Having a male lover wasn't a bad thing in the old days."

Daryl preferred to keep his face buried in a comforting white shirt, but he mumbled a question he really had no answer to. "Why 's it now."

  
"Why is it now a bad thing? It fuckin' isn't. People just lost half of their marbles on the way ... they're probably scared. Who knows. We are smart, we are successful. Fuckin' creative, brave. And fucking look at us, we are the most gorgeous guys on earth. Maybe they're jealous. Two blokes together always have a damn great deal of fun. Our relationships tend to be easier. But we don't live in a time where it's cool to appreciate diversity or the talents others bring to the table."

"He said it's with rocks."

Negan squinted, turning his head a bit to speak against soft hair. "Who?"

"Jesus."

He inhaled, closing his eyes. "In some cultures they stone people to death. That's just the way it is."

There was silence for a minute. And after that, Daryl's tone changed. "Pisses me off."

Negan snorted a laugh and cupped the back of his sub's head to position him for a kiss. "Yeah... pisses me off, too." It wasn't a kiss packed with love and passion, but it lightened the mood and took the weight off heavy chests. "Shit will change one day... we'll have a gay president, a leather club on Mars, and who knows... maybe Paul will be the new Messiah."

It was funny but Daryl didn't laugh. His mind was far too busy to imagine the most amazing outcome ever. "You can be president."

"Yeah?" Negan kissed some more, his hand sliding on a firm butt to fondle and squeeze it. "Do I qualify?"

"Hm." Daryl arched his back, breathing against warm lips. "Yes."

"Mhm..." Negan ran his hand down the back of his sub's thigh, pulling him across his lap. "Was my report good?" He got a faint nod and grabbed Daryl's wrists to slowly twist both arms and pin them behind his back, forcing him to look up. "What's my reward?" 

Daryl huffed a slightly nervous laugh when he tried to move but couldn't. "Swimmin'."

The tip of Negan's tongue poked out near the corner of his mouth to support a silent grin while he studied his boy.

Daryl stared back, his lips parted just a bit, his arms hurting in the relentless grip, his breath heavy in the otherwise quiet room. He tried to move once more but all he could do was pushing his hips forward. Twice. Showing off the full erection twitching in loose pajama bottoms.

"Good boy..." Negan offered a husky tone to the appreciative shimmer in dark eyes and tightened his grip for two more painful seconds before he released his sub. "Chop, chop. You wanna undress and wait in my bed."

\----

At 2:16 in the early morning, slick, sweaty, and completely out of breath, Daryl wasn't quite sure whether he was a good submissive, whether his imperfect extra service could ever be enough, or whether he was currently giving a reward or receiving one... and it didn't matter one bit when the red numbers on the digital alarm clock switched to 2:17 and his back arched off the damp sheets. When his legs fell open and he craned his head back. When his ass felt numb and sore and absolutely fantastic all at once. 

The panting man hovering over him rammed himself a last time into his throbbing hole and then collapsed with a feral growl on top of him, burying him under hot skin, musky sweat, and filthy words of love. 

He couldn't breathe very well like that and it felt like a part of his neck was eaten by rough teeth and hungry lips. He didn't mind. He wanted it to go on forever. Be squished and suffocated and consumed by this man who truly was his whole world and the only law and religion he cared about.


	3. Wings

Rick inhaled deeply, turning his face out of the pillow. He always woke up before the alarm went off. And ever since they had moved into the new apartment he actually enjoyed this very personal quiet morning time, when Shane was still asleep and he got to slowly transition from sleep to a new day in a completely new life. 

For almost twenty years he had lived in the house he had originally bought for his wife. Had lived there with his family throughout the years, knew every little nook and quirk. Was familiar with all the smells and noises, the leaky attic window, the bump in the driveway, the blue handprint Carl had made on the porch, and the loose doorknob in the basement he had promised to fix for the last three years of his marriage. It was the house he thought he would grow old in. He thought he would sit in the garden with grey hair, watching a beautifully aged Lori play with their grandchildren underneath the apple tree he had planted. But fate had a different plan for his life. Took it all, tore it apart, turned it upside down, and replaced everything he knew and was comfortable with, with something new. Very new. Very scary. Challenging. Adventurous. Exciting. Simply beautiful. The most fantastic outcome he could have hoped for but never dared to dream of. New people, new family, new home, new love, new life. A new him. ...or maybe not. Maybe it wasn't new, just real. The real him, the one that felt the need to hide in the murky shadows for most of his adult life. But not anymore. Now Rick Grimes could dare to be himself and slowly make his way into a world he always felt drawn to like a stray kitten trying to find its way home.

He inhaled once more, feeling his chest rise and fall. The subtle scent of new wooden furniture, new carpeting, and fresh paint still hung in the air. It made something in his belly tingle, just like the faint background noise, confirming that he was really here. In this ridiculously massive factory building in Atlanta's industrial area. A house as big and imposing as its owner. Unapologetic, towering prominently over the rest of the city's buildings. It radiated stability and order like nothing else. Protection. A sense of calm and safety that allowed its residents to really live inside these sturdy walls. To develop and evolve. 

It also had a very peculiar ambiance. Its own mind and language. 

Rick loved it. The distinct ping-ping-ping coming from somewhere in the radiator. A mysterious thudding sound in the wall. Water flowing through the pipes. A dog barking, just once, obviously excited about something. A beep-beep from outside when Joseph opened the roll-up garage door. Very faint footsteps from above and the staircase. A door falling shut. An 899,- dollar Vitamix shredding fresh kale, seeds, and mango into a nutritious breakfast at 6:30 in the morning. 

The soundtrack of his new life. 

He absorbed it all, scratched his bare belly and turned to glance at the man lying right beside him, still sound asleep. Still as gorgeous as the last time he had looked at him.

He fought the urge to touch the clean-cut structure of Shane's relaxed face, a broad shoulder and muscular arm, the silver necklace around his neck partly falling on the pillow beneath. It wasn't the time to worship all of that. It was time to get up as quietly as possible. To quickly wash and brush teeth, dress and do something about the chaos on his head. Time to prepare the bathroom for Shane. Fresh towels, favorite shaving cream, and body wash, underwear and socks. Time to make coffee. Black, no sugar. And finally... it was time to pretend to be totally cool and unaffected once his partner appeared in the kitchen in nothing but low hanging PJ bottoms, rubbing the back of his head, still a bit sleepy.

"Mornin'."

Rick chose not to overdo it and only pointed at the coffeemaker instead of pouring a cup. "Coffee is ready." He meant to leave but was stopped by a strong arm across his belly.

"Mh." Shane pulled his boyfriend close, hands on slender hips, his own supporting a firm stance. "Where are you going?"

Rick tipped his head back the slightest bit when he was forced to have really close eye contact. "Store? We get some deliveries."

Shane pursed his lips with a single nod, studying the other man's face, the ghost of a smile curving his mouth. He didn't say anything but treated himself to a kiss. Firm and confidently with a sense of gentle adoration underlined. It wasn't a long one but he made their foreheads touch and kept their lips just barely separated when he broke it. "Lunch. Half-past noon."

Rick wanted to nod but somehow didn't. Instead, he kept his eyes closed, longing for more intimacy while his voice betrayed his feigned-coolness. "I know."

Shane sniffed his nose, brushed his lips over a nicely glowing cheek and pulled back, "Can't wait." pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Rick felt a bit lightheaded and turned in the wrong direction before he found the way out of the kitchen, through the corridor, and out the door, totally forgetting to bring a jacket or at least a sweater to wear over his rather thin t-shirt. 

Outside on the company grounds, he met Joey, a couple of workers who fixed the exterior lighting, and the man himself who walked past him with long steps and serious face, a clipboard and laptop tucked under his arm, obviously already busy. He didn't say anything but offered a faint smile when passing by. Rick wanted to return it but then felt the same strange defiance that always overcame him in Negan's presence. It showed through the tense expression on his face, but in the last moment, he lowered his eyes at least, as a small, grumpy sign of submission.

Negan didn't turn around or stop his busy stride. He acknowledged the gesture, though with praise spoken in a firm tone. "Nice!" 

It made Rick squint angrily, probably out of habit, but his stomach knew better and clenched in excitement before it spread heat all through his chest to celebrate the occasion.

Paul was already at the store, unpacking a box of leather belts. He glanced up, smiling when he saw one of his dads entering and took his headphones down. "Good morning, Sir! Did you sleep well?" He pointed towards the staff room. "Made you some juice. Orange and pomegranate."

"Good morning." The hard lines on Rick's face disappeared instantly. He placed a kiss to the top of his boyfriend's head as he walked past him. "Did you have breakfast already?"

"A ton!" Paul put his headphones back on, raising his voice over the music. "OLIVIA MADE PANCAKES!"

Daryl arrived at the store after his dog walk and unleashed Tiger as soon as they were through the door. Just like every morning the dog went straight to his favorite place behind the counter.

Rick petted his furry store buddy while drinking a big glass of juice and watching the youngest member of the Leather Factory team interacting with a customer. Head down, tense, every word a grumpy mumble. Daryl really wasn't good with any form of sales talk. Most customers condoned it though since Mister Dixon had the looks to compensate for the obvious lack of people skills. And some even took advantage of it...

"So... is a little demonstration included? I mean 68 bucks. I'm sure I could get it much cheaper online, but I find it important to support my local businesses."

Daryl didn't dare to look up, holding the rubber-ballgag the man was interested in, in both hands. He didn't want to demonstrate it. But he wanted the person to buy it so Negan would get money.

"Daryl." Rick came up from behind, putting a hand to the small of the sub's back. "Glenn needs help in the warehouse. He can't find the shirts we ordered for DomCon." He took the ballgag, briefly rubbed the man's back and gestured for him to leave.

"Hm." Daryl was sure that Glenn wouldn't need any help and he knew for a fact that the shirts were on the table right next to the door because he had unpacked them there just the other day for Negan to check the design. But he turned around anyway and for half a second brushed Rick's fingers with his own to say 'thank you' without using words. Sometimes he really liked the Cowboy boots-guy.

The rest of the morning was busy. Paul had to help with the flood of customers and after a long time-out in the staffroom, Daryl had gained enough courage to make a reappearance in the salesroom. A huge order came in and at 11:14 AM, as part of their annual group trip, the whole Leather Gay club from Oklahoma decided to visit the store, deeply disappointed when Mister International Leather wasn't even present. Rick called the office and then watched for 22 minutes in a mixture of awe and jealousy how Negan signed a bunch of leather vests and jackets, posed for selfies, and patiently listened to his fans as they shared their personal 'Why you mean the world to me'-stories. 

They left right before noon and Negan took a black Leather Factory hoodie off the shelf, unzipped it on the way to the cashout and without a comment waved two fingers for his employee to step out behind the counter. "Boys have an appointment tomorrow. Can you get Simon to help out in the morning?" He held the jacket so Rick could put it on, then zipped it up for him. "Eight till eleven would be great."

The soft material on Rick's bare arms instantly smoothed the goosebumps down that he had worn around for the past hours. "Sure." And the very brief pinch to his chin he received right before Negan turned around to collect boy number one for a shared dinner in the privacy of their apartment, made something in his heart all mushy. He knew it was intentional that Negan had picked a jacket that was a size too big. And he wore it with pride for the next 25 minutes while getting a whole lot of extras done all through the store. He didn't have to. But he knew as well that Negan would notice each one of them, and that alone was motivation enough.

Shane had made his trademark chili for lunch. Extra beans, extra beef, extra hot. A big bowl over perfectly cooked rice. He ate it sitting on a kitchen chair, legs spread casually, a silent smirk on his face as he watched his partner eat his share. On the ground. Not on his knees and not in any submissive posture, because Rick couldn't bring himself to do that. But it was okay to go without a chair, back leaning against the kitchen cabinet, legs bent, wrists resting on his knees as he spooned his lunch with a little defiant spark glimmering in his eyes. For nine minutes, before the doorbell rang. Any form of inner rebellion disappeared in an instant, replaced by a kind of shyness and an undeniable hint of excitement. Excitement, that he tried to hide at all costs when he first stared in the direction of the door and then glanced up at his partner.

Shane didn't lose the slight smirk playing around his lips. He gestured with his bowl. "Yeah, go."

Rick got up, put the bowl on the table and just for a second stopped in front of the large mirror in the hallway to smooth his hair down and wipe a speck of chili from the corner of his mouth. Still, he gave his reflection a discontented look that firmly stayed on his face while he opened the door, hoping to appear busy and not at all amused to have his lunch disrupted.

The tall man waiting on his doormat looked flawless, smelled of outstanding mastery and well-worn leather combined and held hands with his sub while being on the phone with a business partner in Washington.

"Can I a bucket." 

Neither Daryl's slightly gruff attitude nor his mumbled question came as a surprise to Rick. It was the same request every day for a month now. And like every day, a mixture of anger and excitement pushed through his chest because of it. A sense of humiliation in a slightly pleasant way.

He didn't answer, just went back inside and as every day, his cheeks felt like glowing embers as soon as he opened the broom closet and got the little black bucket out. He went with it to the bathroom, filled it with warm water, put some soap in and selected a fresh cleaning rag. On the way back to the door he saw himself in the mirror again and avoided his eyes, more heat spreading over his neck and face. Naturally, he tried to mask it with a firm scowl that he presented to his visitors as he handed the bucket over.

Negan was still on the phone and didn't pause his conversation, but he reacted to the fake resentment and all the pretty blush with a hushed 'Thanks' and specifically tucked the phone between ear and shoulder just to have a hand free and pinch his employee's chin. 

It was a brief gesture and didn't wipe the scowl off Rick's face, but he had to admit that it felt really good, even 52 seconds later when he still stood by the open door to linger in the subtle fragrance that this tall, handsome bastard had left behind like an intoxicating scent mark. Masculine cologne and warm leather.

"Where's my phone?"

Shane's voice snapped him back to the present and he turned around and went back inside, shutting the door. "Coffee table. Paul took it."

The installed video surveillance in the sub's room and kennel wasn't meant to provide a free-of-charge peep show. It was for safety reasons, for the occasional glance to make sure everything was alright. Also to reassure the subs that they were closely monitored at all times. But every now and then, Mister Grimes caught himself sneaking more than just a little peek at the phone display. It was tempting. And fucking hot. The sheer dominance Negan exuded while handling his boy during the 15 minutes of pre-naptime was tangible. Poise, clear movements, firm orders. Daryl was putty in his hands, looking at his owner with all the trust and awe in the world.

"Thought you wanted to do the dishes." The smirk was obvious in Shane's voice as he entered the living room, finding his partner sitting on the sofa's armrest, eyes glued to a Huawei P30.

Rick scowled, flinging the phone back onto the coffee table with a clank. "Thought you were looking for your stuff." He got up and attempted to leave but was stopped by a flat hand on his stomach and a firm, unmovable body standing in the way. A clear warning flashed in Shane's eyes. A warning that he stubbornly defied. For 22 silent seconds, until he was walked backward, fast. The wall and a part of the doorframe pushed uncomfortably into his back and his fly was torn open before he was able to voice a complaint. Five fingers pushed into his tight pants, instantly starting to work on his traitorous cock that was in an erect state ever since the doorbell rung. 

Shane pressed their foreheads together, his eyes open with a piercing stare. "Turns you on to watch the boy..." He stroked his partner at a rough pace, still a slight smirk on his lips. "Wanna be in his place... buck-naked, all fours... dick dripping... like some randy bitch..." He spoke hushed, lips against a glowing cheek. "Is that what you think about when you drain his jizz-water?"

Rick wanted to protest, fight all those accusations and the blatant guy manhandling him like a ragdoll in the middle of their homey apartment in broad daylight. But instead, he heard himself panting hard, his eyes fell shut and his knees got kind of weak because his whole body seemed to be in absolute agreement with every scandalous word spoken. Especially when a husky, devilish chuckle was added and his reproductive organs took that as a cue to release a pathetically big load of semen into his underwear.

"Thought so..." The taunting tone of Shane's voice changed to a more comforting timbre and a hand slick with fresh cum took safe hold of Rick's chin and lower jaw to hold him in place for a long, deep kiss. It was an opportunity to come down and be reassured that there wasn't a reason to feel ashamed.

Rick melted. Absorbed all the strength and gentleness. The intimacy and freedom he could experience in this huge building, within protective walls. He kissed back, deep and slow, thankful and happy on a level not many people were able to understand. And when the kiss stopped, his hair was smoothed down and pushed back with two firm hands on his head. Lips spoke against the corner of his mouth. Low and without any threat, but with a clear message. 

"Will tell him to cut you off watch for a while. It's not a porn channel."

When the doorbell rang for a second time, Rick's face was flushed for a completely different reason. His hair was a bit wild and a wet stain adorned a certain area of his jeans. He tried to compose himself however and accepted the used bucket as casually as possible. Like every day, Daryl sat down on the stairs to patiently wait for his owner and just like every day, Rick knew he was going to be rewarded for the deed of subservience he offered. Sometimes it was only words, sometimes he was invited to come upstairs for a while, once it had been a piece of mint chocolate, another time he got to join Negan for dinner. Today his reward was very subtle but far better than any dinner invitation could be.

"Will you clean the bucket as I like it?" Negan's tone held no mockery or sarcasm, just honest interest.

A hostile squint formed on Rick's face anyway, just as it always did when the tingle in his stomach reminded him how much he enjoyed the hierarchy in this house. "Yeah." It made him avoid his eyes and blush even more.

And as always, Negan wasn't impressed or fooled in the slightest. "Yes, you will." He stepped closer, purposefully invading his employee's private space, and slowly leaned in to sniff. Soundly. A red cheek. The lobe of a glowing ear. A curl sticking out awkwardly behind it. "Thank you... for keeping watch while my boy sleeps. I really appreciate your help."

As this rich, seductive voice tickled Rick's ear, he grimaced and clenched his fist around the handle of the bucket, heat crawling all over his skin. He knew he was probably smelling like cum and perdition. And the heavy scent of Negan's cologne and superiority almost made him dizzy. Both combined let him freeze until the tip of a warm nose nudged his cheek for half a second and he couldn't keep himself from leaning into it for the same amount of time. Then, just as every day, he watched Negan snap his magnificent long fingers for Daryl Dixon to follow upstairs. And just as every day, he couldn't wait to go back inside and clean out that damn naptime-bucket.

Evenings were different since they had moved to the factory. Before, they spent their time in front of the TV or maybe at a restaurant for a fancier background to enjoy a piece of pizza. Now, evenings were filled with a lot of activities. A sauna session on the roof, fun in the sports rooms, movies on the big screen in the lecture hall, some serious scening in the playroom, or just a drink and talk in the lounge. Negan wasn't always present, depending on his work schedule. But other people stopped by or stayed a while longer after work. Joseph and Olivia. Abe, Simon or the store's intern, Glenn, who still seemed confused about the whole lifestyle but really enjoyed a good glass of red wine in good company. 

Rick would have never admitted it, but he liked the playroom evenings most of all, simply because it was the easiest environment to be submissive without having to overcome that inner barrier he just couldn't get rid of. In general, it wasn't a huge problem as long as he was alone with Negan and Shane. But in front of others, especially Paul and Daryl, he still had major difficulties to let his guard down.

Tonight the invisible gates to the play area stayed shut and instead deep laughter resounded from room 16 where a double ping-pong match took place. Eugene and Rick on the left, Simon and Negan on the deadly right. Both had played and taught professional table tennis for almost two decades, so the left team really didn't stand a chance. Especially with the young man sitting on Shane's knee, who acted as a referee with painstaking accuracy.

Daryl's eyes followed the ball with high concentration, left, right, left, right, left, right, before his arm shot up in the air. "Touched."

"Yep." Jesus sat cross-legged on the ground and stopped gnawing his pencil, using it to write down the current score. "Saw it too. Point for team A."

Rick was completely out of breath and bent over a bit, propping both hands on his thighs as he turned around for a complaint. "That's bullshit! Who touched it? He's biased!"

Negan wiped the sweat off his forehead with his wrist, "He's just not fuckin' blind." then served the ball almost gently across the table to give his opponent a chance to receive.

Rick grimaced in defiance, hitting the ball halfheartedly. "What does A stand for anyway."

Jesus didn't look up from his clipboard where he doodled a tiny drumset next to the score chart. "It's for Alpha, Sir. Team Alpha against Team Omega."

Abraham took the cigar out between his lips, erupting into deep laughter, while Rick got hit by one of Simon's relentless servings right on the chest. 

He didn't even seem to notice, putting a hand on his hip. "Omega?"

"All people involved in this specific group have defined biological roles based on a hierarchical system with the terms originating from wolf behavior research." Mister Porter was happy when for the third time that night his racket made contact with the ball. "An omega wolf is the lowest ranking member of the pack."

"Thanks Wikipedia." Abe took another deep drag of his cigar, then gestured with it to the right where Daryl shuffled nervously on Shane's lap, one hand squeezing his crotch. "Is he wetting his pants?"

Shane tapped the young man's back, "You have to go, buddy?"

Paul added a snare to his drawing, the tip of his tongue pointing out for a second. "No, he's plugged, Sir. Daddy is edging him." He wanted to draw a foot pedal as well but didn't get to do it when a furious man shoved him hard and made him fall sideways.

"DON' TELL!"

Negan put the racket down with a groan, "Here." and when his sub didn't follow the order immediately, raised his voice. "HERE I SAID!"

Shane padded the man's thigh, making him get up, then held a hand out for Paul to help him off the floor.

Daryl scowled at his feet, fuming as he arrived at the ping-pong table. "He can' tell!"

"Up here!" Negan snapped his fingers to demand eye contact. "I told you no fuckin' shoving him! If he upsets you, you can tell him or you tell me but you don't fucking push him!" He pointed a finger to the left. "Second strike. Time out. Ten minutes."

Daryl scrunched up his nose, scowling through his long bangs. "'m countin' your points."

"You may count them again after your time-out. Go." 

He stood his ground for stubborn 16 seconds before he finally turned around. On the way to the corner, he passed Jesus and glanced up briefly, seeing him standing between Shane's legs, a red-stained tissue at his lips. It made him grimace and then glare at the wall once he arrived.

"It's nothing, Sir." Jesus waved his tissue at Negan, smiling. "Just bit my lip!"

Like every day for the past month, Rick was torn. While he really wanted to ruffle Paul's hair and get him an ice pack, he also felt the need to keep the stress down for the Doms and provide an enjoyable evening. In the end, he did a mixture of both, handed the paddle to Abe to take over at the table, got some ice for Paul's slightly swollen lower lip, nudged Shane's arm affectionately, and after eight minutes of time-out joined Daryl in the corner to hold the watch up for him to see and share some private words of support. After exactly 10 minutes he accompanied him back to Negan and surprisingly got his left earlobe pinched for it with a small 'thanks'. The gesture was enough to make his stomach tumble in happiness and was able to tune the jealousy down as he was forced to watch yet another example of flawless D/s when Negan snapped his fingers for his permanent sub.

"What do you wanna say."

All the defiance and anger had left Daryl's face and he looked up at his owner with pure remorse and the sense of shyness he always carried around. "'m sorry."

"What are you sorry for."

He blindly pointed a finger at the armchair where Shane was seated, Paul kneeling between his spread legs. "The blood."

"What else."

He exhaled, glancing at the ping-pong table. "Interruptin'."

Negan nodded. "Paul is your friend, you don't wanna hurt him. Treating him badly is also disrespectful towards Shane and me."

"Hm."

"Don't do it again." He closed the distance and took his boy by the front of his shirt to pull him close. "You're forgiven. Gimme' a kiss."

Daryl didn't dare to lift his chin and pressed a kiss to Negan's chest, then hid his face in a slightly damp sweater. "Can we go."

"May you go upstairs with me? Not yet." Negan placed a kiss to the top of Daryl's head. "You may apologize to Shane and then go upstairs with Paul. He wants to prepare in the sub-room. Keep him some company until I come and get you." Ten fingers clawed tightly into his shirt when he tried to step back and he didn't comment on it, just casually took his sub by the hand and walked him up to the little seating area on the right side of the room. 

Jesus rose to his feet instantly, wrapping both arms around Daryl's neck. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to be rude." He kissed his friend's shoulder, then rested his head on it. "I thought it's no biggie if he knows."

Daryl sniffed his nose and wanted to say so much back. Nice things. Apologies. That he really liked how Jesus smelled of Olivia's cookie dough even though nobody had been baking for days. And that he didn't mind one bit if Shane knew all about his plug and he had no idea why it had made him angry. But then he said nothing and just returned the hug in silence because sometimes his silly mouth just wouldn't work. 

"Show." Negan grasped Paul's chin to lift it off Daryl's shoulder, examining the small injury. "Won't reduce the value I guess." He wiped it twice with the pad of his thumb. "Don't forget to report later."

"I won't." Jesus went on his tip-toes to nuzzle one of his dads' cheeks. "Great match, Sir. You should play in China with the pros."

Negan patted boy number two's butt. "Yeah. Wouldn't survive all that fuckin' slurping going on over there."

Daryl held his eyes down, nestling with the cuffs of his sleeves. He had never apologized to Shane and really didn't know how to start. It made him angry that he had to and after 11 seconds he made a step forward and defiantly held a hand out, without a comment or looking anywhere. 

"You're a little hothead." Shane accepted it anyway and engaged in a brief but firm handshake. "I know the problem."

"Hm." Daryl still didn't look up and leaned a bit more to the left to be closer to Negan's arm. 

"I've worked out some strategies to stay calm. Can give you a great book if you want."

"Don' need a book." 

"But you need some fuckin' manners." Negan squeezed his sub's hand in a warning. "Say goodnight and go with Paul. I'll pick you up in 30 minutes."

Daryl flicked his head. "You don' have your phone."

"It's over there. I'll watch you."

Rick slumped on the armrest of Abe's chair and watched Negan tuck a strand of hair behind his wary sub's ear. He watched Shane wave goodbye to boy number one and two. He watched Jesus fist-bumping Eugene and Abe. He rolled his eyes when Simon called a happy 'Turn the valve only halfway, lads! Don't want the pressure to sandblast your anus to pieces!'. And then found himself amidst deep laughter and spicy cigar smoke. 

Negan had taken a seat in Abe's chair and kept Rick from getting off the armrest with a loose arm wrapped around his slender waist. 

Rick knew it was a reward for attentiveness, consoling, and ice packs. For trying hard to drift in the right direction. And he allowed himself to enjoy it instead of questioning why he felt like a teenager on the first date when the small of his back was tickled. Just like that, while everyone talked about the upcoming formal leather dinner in San Francisco.

"Ah man, don't know." Shane rubbed the back of his neck. "Not the formal type of guy. Will you take the boy?"

Negan sipped his drink, nodding. "All of them. Wanna see how they do under high protocol."

Simon lit his cigar. "Don't count me in, boys. Not wasting my time in a monkey-suit."

Rick chuckled but didn't say anything. A broad hand rested safely on his stomach and a phone lay on Negan's thigh, it was glanced at every now and then. Shane did the same with his. It was comforting to witness that certain people here got so closely monitored and kept safer than a baby in its cradle. It was comforting to know that he was one of them. And it was exciting to imagine what the future could hold. Here, inside this ridiculously massive factory building in Atlanta's industrial area. His new home. Radiating stability and order like nothing else. Protection. A sense of calm and safety that allowed its residents to really live inside these sturdy walls. Develop and evolve. Be free. Be real. Be truly happy.


	4. Devotee

After getting up at half-past three in the very early morning for a 5-hour flight from ATL to SFO, Daryl didn't feel very energetic. He sat cross-legged on the curb next to the packed luggage cart, waiting for the shuttle to the hotel. The flight hadn't been very nice because he wasn't given a seat by the window and the breakfast on board had been a disaster with dry toast and cold coffee. He wished they could still be at the factory instead of ugly San Francisco for silly dinners and photo shoots.

"Aww, everybody is so nice here!" Jesus put a hand flat on his chest to emphasize how flattered he felt. "The lady at security asked whether I'm under the age of 18! She thought you're my actual father!" He rested his cheek on one of his dad's leather-clad shoulder. "I knew my new face tonic would make me ten years younger."

"Yeah right..." Negan fumbled with the battery of his phone after the device had fallen to the floor. "It had nothing to do with that fuckin' kindergarten shirt you're wearing."

"Hm?" Paul looked down on himself, pulling the shirt out with both hands to evaluate the colorful print. "Nobody in kindergarten is watching Steven Universe, Sir?"

"Steven Universe deals with complicated themes such as post-traumatic stress disorder, puberty, mild sexual innuendo, general crudity and same-sex relationships in a way that is both subversively educational for older children and thought-provoking for grown-ups." Eugene Porter had his new shades firmly in place and used them to come across as badass as possible as he shushed two fanboys aside who attempted to bother Mister international leather before his third cup of coffee.

"Mhm." Negan wasn't interested in any nerd-lectures and handed the pieces of his phone over. "Be a fuckin' lamb and fix this. Need to make a call."

Abraham put his own bag to the rest of the luggage. "Rick and Shane meet you at the hotel. They had to take the 10 AM flight."

"Why." Negan wrapped an arm around boy number two and demonstratively kissed the top of his head when an elderly couple gawked at them as if they were a group of monkeys at the zoo.

Abe patted his pants down in search of some tobacco. "Lori was late to pick up the kid."

"Mm." Paul turned his head to bury his nose into Negan's armpit, inhaling deeply before he shared the newest gossip. "Happens a lot lately. She has a new bo. Some banker. Looks like Richard Gere's not so pretty uncle."

"Mhm." Negan patted Paul's butt. "That's our shuttle. You wanna help Daryl with the luggage."

Daryl got up when a black van stopped right in front of them. He hoped the hotel wouldn't be one of the fancy ones with shiny floors and snobby people. He also hoped in one of the 12 bags would be his comfy sleepwear because he was really tired. 

The driver was not very tall and rather petite but he was obviously a pro when it came to loading the trunk full of suitcases like it would be a game of Tetris.

"Careful, that's Daddy's gear." Paul helped with the last bag and then climbed on one of the backseats, snagging half of a granola bar from Eugene. "Sweet, thanks."

Negan was the last to get in the car after finishing a short call. He sat down next to Daryl, putting a firm hand on his thigh. "All good, boy?"

"Hm. Yes." Daryl shrugged halfheartedly, glad that he got to sit with Negan and after three minutes of driving, revised his answer. "'m tired." He knew his statement would be acknowledged but when he was directly looked at and his face got very seriously examined he felt like the most special person in the world.

"We'll have a nap after the photoshoot."

He sniffed his nose, scratching his left ear. "Are you nappin' too?" 

"Sure." Negan glanced at his phone when it beeped. "No kennel, no cameras... somebody has to keep the puppy safe, right?"

San Francisco in front of the car window still looked silly, but the promise for a shared naptime with a very tall, very reliable man made it at least 50% more likable.

\----

Nadya Lev was a remarkably gifted photographer and without a doubt the Bay Area's number one expert in the field of outstanding male photography. Bold, sexy, unafraid to get up close and personal, each photo she snapped a feast for the eye with an audacious desire to provoke. The Leather Factory had worked with her several times before with stunning results and this time was no different.

Daryl wasn't a fan of photoshoots, though. No matter whether he was in front of or behind the camera to just watch. It made him uncomfortable and unbelievably jealous. Not only because he knew all the pretty pictures would be out there sooner or later for the whole world to see, but also because everyone else looked so much better than he ever could. 

Like Jesus right now. 

His long hair appeared wet and was brushed back. He was clad in innocent white clothing, shirt and light pants, to stand in contrast to his modeling partner. The mischievous happiness he always wore on his flawless face was gone, replaced by a serious expression, confident and sexy, despite the pose he performed. On his knees, but not resting on his calves. It was an upright kneel with his back straight, shoulders squared and legs shoulder-width apart. A sultry spark in his piercing blue eyes as he held on to a long, leather-clad leg with one loose arm.

Negan towered right beside him, tall and proud, exuding power and command as always. He wore tight leather pants in black riding boots, a sturdy belt buckle decorated his flat lower stomach, his trademark leather jacket falling open over a bare chest. In one hand he held his favorite riding crop. On the other, he wore a leather glove and used it to firmly cover Paul's mouth and pull him against his hip. 

Daryl sniffed his nose, condemning everything he saw. Especially when the photographer demanded a small change in pose and Paul took Negan's leather-clad thumb between pearly white teeth in a tiny act of cheeky defiance. 

He really hated the stupid SMash!-magazine and all the cover photos Nadya took for it.

"So, I think we're done, guys! Great job!" She clapped her hands and turned to check her monitor station for the footage she got.

In the matter of a second, all the former professional tension left Paul Rovia's body and let his beautiful form deflate like a flamingo swim ring in a cactus plantation. "Oh thank god!" He lay down on the blank concrete, acting as he had just finished a 10 miles marathon. "That was exhausting. Gimme food please." 

"Yeah, get up, take a shower, and order us some lunch." Negan tapped boy number two with the tip of his crop. "No junk food."

Jesus scrambled to his feet, holding on to Negan's belt to lift himself on his tiptoes for a little nuzzle against pretty facial hair. "In the hotel room? Will you come, too, Daddy?"

"Yes." Negan brushed his sub's wet hair back, kissing him on the lips. "I'll have an interview first, though."

\----

If Daryl hated anything more than photoshoots, it was interviewing. Especially when he was supposed to participate.

"That's interesting," The lady with the microphone tilted her head to the right. "What makes the store in Atlanta the main one out of all the worldwide branches?"

"Well, it's the first I've opened. It's the one I work at personally. It's located inside the original Leather Factory and of course, it's the largest fucking retail space there is in leather and fetish goods." Negan looked down at the man kneeling right next to his chair and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "Right boy? What do we sell at the store. You wanna tell me."

Daryl instantly shifted on his ankles with a nervous smack of his lips. "Jackets." He shot a glance at the interviewer, making sure the evil microphone wasn't too close. "Shirts. Pants." He exhaled soundly, looking up at Negan. "Boots 'n chaps." To make sure people knew what he meant by the last one he pointed half a finger at his butt because leather chaps never covered ass cheeks.

Negan listened patiently, a gentle smile on his lips. "We do have great chaps, right? What's in the back of the store where the customers can test the goods?"

Blue eyes flickered insecurely for a second and lips were smacked once more before a shy answer came. "Slings. Bondage gear." He pulled the fabric of his shirt in search for the right word. "Chest buckle."

"Harnesses."

"Hm." He nodded, sniffing his nose and then remembered something else. "Puppy stuff."

Negan wagged his brows with a deep purr. "Is that my favorite department?"

Daryl felt his cheeks blush a little and the corner of his mouth tip up. "'n gloves." He touched Negan's hand and was rewarded with a pinch to his chin.

"That's absolutely right. I love me some neat gloves." 

The interviewer tried her best to catch up with the almost private conversation going on all of sudden. "Oh, I've read that wearing a single glove is a bit of a signature feature to you. Can you maybe explain why that is?"

"Sure. Elena." Negan turned his full attention back to the young lady who obviously wasn't familiar with the genre she was holding an interview for. "My all-time favorite kink is fisting." He held a fist up as an explanation. "Inserting a hand into the rectum or vagina."

The young woman holding the microphone stared blankly at her guest while the wheels in her head were desperately turning in search for a reasonable explanation for what she just heard, before her imagination was able to form a clear picture of a wild, sexual activity. Way too wild for her moral standards. "Ooh! Uhm-"

Daryl shuffled in his kneeling posture, sitting a bit more upright and then nodded, pointing at his butt again. It was his favorite kink, too and he was very glad that the microphone-woman apparently didn't like it and confusedly rustled with all the paper sheets she was holding, searching for the next question. 

Maybe that meant that the silly interview was over soon...

\----

With the help of the room service, Paul Rovia had set up an impressive lunch spread in his spacious hotel room. Salads, fruit, pasta, hummus, and zucchini bread. 

Daryl liked it all but wasn't allowed to eat anything as long as he wasn't fed.

"Paul." Negan pushed a piece of bread with hummus between Daryl's lips. "Be good and pour me some water."

Paul quickly ate a chunk of melon, putting the fork down with a clank before he leaned across the table to reach the water bottle. "Daddy, what's the dress code tonight? Do I have to wear a tie or something?" 

He poured a glass and handed it over.

Daryl followed it with his eyes, mouthing a soundless ''s your drink, Sir.' because Jesus forgot to say it.

"Do you even have a fucking tie or something?" Negan took the glass and put a supporting hand to the back of Daryl's head as he fed him some water. 

"No? But it's still early. Could go shopping." Paul smiled brightly, popping a strawberry into his mouth. "One of my dads gave me his credit card."

Daryl wiped his wet mouth with the back of his wrist, giving a gruff protest in Paul's direction. "'s for emergencies!" At least that's what Rick had said.

"Mhm." Negan snapped his fingers, demanding boy number one's attention. "That's right, but what did I just fucking tell you."

Daryl hunched his shoulders. "Speak when spoken to."

"Why."

He rubbed his left ear. "Practice."

"Yes. We practice for dinner tonight. You only answer when I ask you a question. You won't speak to anyone unless I tell you to."

"Aahh..." Jesus slumped a bit deeper into his chair, sighing in deepest contempt. "I hate high protocol! I never get it right."

Negan snapped his fingers once more, this time for his other sub. "Yeah, you wanna fucking sit straight. And you'll wear what I give you later. No tie."

Paul straightened his back for three seconds before he jumped up and bolted to the door when two of his dads entered. "There you are!" He kissed Rick's cheek, then wrapped himself around Shane like a spider monkey. "What took you so long?"

"Hey, Chipmunk." Shane carried the additional weight effortlessly, keeping his boyfriend up with one arm. "Finished the shooting?"

"Yep." Jesus nuzzled the man's ear. "Should I unpack? Lube and condoms? Hang the 'Please do not disturb'-sign?"

Shane chuckled, putting his sub back on the ground. "No, man. We're tired."

"And hungry." Rick let his shoulder-bag slip to the ground, seeing a lot of left-over food on the table. "I'm starving." He took a cherry tomato and attempted to eat it, when his eyes fell on the gorgeous leather man sitting comfortably in the only arm-chair the room had to offer. "Hey." 

Negan groaned as he got up, holding a hand out for Daryl to take. He made three slow steps before he stopped, flaunting his bare chest at his employee. "Hey." He leaned in even closer, almost nose to nose. "How's Judith."

Rick avoided his eyes as his heartbeat accelerated noticeably. "Good. Home now."

Negan gave a nod, scrutinizing all the flushed skin and long lashes. "Great. How are you?"

Rick wasn't prepared to be cared about on such a level, especially after the unpleasant Lori-incident just a few hours ago. And strangely enough, it made his voice sound a little hostile. "I'm good."

Negan didn't seem to mind. "Good to hear. I'm putting the boy down for his nap now." He tilted his head a bit, speaking right into a glowing ear. "You wanna come afterwards and make my bed. Ask downstairs for fresh sheets." 

The small order made Rick's stomach tumble and his fists clench, both at the same time. "Wanted to eat now."

The defiant tone didn't irritate Negan in the slightest. He pulled back, gesturing at the table. "Do that. Make sure you feed your man first, though." He pinched Rick's cheek and turned to leave, kissing Paul's hair on the way out. "Photos turned out great. Fuckin hot lil' bugger."

Daryl held on to Negan's hand a bit tighter as he was guided out of the room and strictly kept his head down. He didn't like all the weird flirting with the Cowboy boots-guy and wonderful compliments for Jesus but he didn't say anything because he wasn't asked a question.

Negan's room wasn't on the same corridor. They had to use the elevator to get up on the 11th level and shared the small space for 21 seconds with a shy woman in her early 30's who gawked at the tall, leather-clad stranger as if she had never seen a member of the male species before, until the doors opened with a 'bing' and Negan winked at her on the way out. 

Daryl was handed the keycard like every time they stayed at a new hotel. He knew it was because his owner wanted to make sure that he felt confident in knowing how to unlock the room, but he hated it anyway, as he always needed several tries until the damn green light came and the lock made a small clicking noise.

"Good job." Negan walked his sub into the room with a gentle hand on his back, let the door fall shut and pointed to the luggage the hotel staff had delivered for them earlier. "You may unpack. I'll take a quick shower." He took off his leather jacket, handing it over. "Chop, chop. Then we'll take a nap." 

Daryl wanted to ask whether the nap would be without a bucket since the room had carpeting, and Rick certainly forgot to pack one. But then he didn't because he wasn't asked a question and Negan vanished in the bathroom.

Two bags contained the outfits for the formal dinner. The silver suitcase was filled with playroom equipment, including black rubber sheets, leather cuffs, a well-used flogger, and three different plugs. The smallest bag had Negan's laptop and all the chargers. One bag was for boots and shoes. One contained Daryl's personal belongings that he wanted to bring along. And the biggest suitcase had all the normal clothing and toiletries. Daryl stored most of it into the closet, put the sleepwear he was hoping to find on top of the dresser, and then collected all the toiletries to bring them into the bathroom. The shower was still running and he just wanted to go back to the bedroom again when a casual voice stopped him.

"You wanna undress and wear one of the bathrobes until I come."

Again, he wasn't asked a question, so he didn't say anything and just followed the order. Both of the bathrobes the hotel provided had the same size and he flicked his head to get some hair out of his eyes as he looked at his reflection in the mirror, finding himself wrapped into a massive mass of white terrycloth, with much too long sleeves and a belt that was tied around him in a weirdly shaped knot. He sniffed his nose, flicked his head once more, and then carried the second robe to the bathroom. 

"Good boy. Are you making sure my dick won't freeze off?" Negan stood at the sink, already dried off, his wet hair combed back, as he checked his flawless appearance in the mirror.

"Hm." Daryl nodded, "Yes." and then held the robe open a bit awkwardly to help his owner putting it on.

"Great job." Negan didn't seem to mind and loosely tied the belt in front of his flat belly. "Now give me a tour. Show me my room."

The order came as a total surprise to Daryl and for the split of a second, he thought maybe he was made fun of. But Negan just looked at him all expectantly so he hesitantly led the way back to the bedroom where he exhaled in a kind of stressed-out fashion and pointed to the freshly made king size bed.

"Mhm. You may tell me what I'm looking at."

Again, the order sounded a bit like a mean trap of some sort, so Daryl gave Negan a wary glance for confirmation before he mumbled a small ''s your bed' that came out pretty gruff just in case somebody would laugh at his stupidity. Just the opposite happened, though. He got praised in the nicest voice.

"Good job. It sure looks big enough for two, right? Might as well give you permission to use it with me."

A small wisp of hair was tucked behind his ear and he felt so happy that he showed a shy little smile before he pointed at the closet. "'s your closet."

Negan nodded, putting his arms behind his back as he stared at closed doors. "What's inside?"

Opening the doors was a bit tricky but Daryl managed to pull them open after the second try and scratched his ear, looking at all the shelves and hangers. "All from your bags." He gestured at the bottom, "'n shoes." and at a little metal door that had already been there. "'n your safe."

"Not bad." Negan pursed his lips, reaching out to open the safe's door. "We should use it for something extra special."

"Hm." Daryl thought so, too and after a moment of consideration took a single leather glove off the shelf on the left to place it inside the small built-in safe. "Or your money." 

Negan's lips moved into a tiny smile. "What a shame that it's not big enough for my puppy to fit in." He cocked a brow at his sub and turned around to view the rest of the room. "What else you wanna show me."

Daryl stumbled briefly as his right foot got caught in the generous amount of terrycloth falling around his legs. But he didn't fall and pointed at the flat screen on the wall, "TV." then turned to the left, "'n your desk." then pointed to the doorframe. "'n the livin' room."

Negan nodded. "Where are my puppy treats?"

Daryl sniffed his nose, pointing at the nightstand where he had placed two raisins on a paper tissue. "'s here."

Negan didn't comment on it, just took one of them and picked up his phone. "Where should I sit. Show me."

Daryl turned from left to right, scratched the back of his head and then made two steps forward towards a brown leather armchair, insecurely suggesting it.

"Looks about right." Negan sat down, one arm on the armrest, the other hand dialing a number. He spread his legs, snapping his fingers, phone at his ear. "Yeah, hi."

Daryl ruffled all the thick white fabric up a bit and sank down on his knees.

"Be good and go to the store for me. I need raisins. Organic, no oil, sulfite-free. Mhm. No, you give them to me later. Yeah, bye." Negan pushed the red button, put the phone on the side table and snapped his fingers for eye contact. "I wanna talk to you before we nap. Full attention on me, no interruptions." He waited a moment to let the message sink in before he continued, his tone serious. "A lot has changed in your life the past weeks. The house looks different, you have a changed routine, I've set up new rules, we live with other people." 

Daryl shifted nervously in his kneeling position, not sure whether he was in trouble.

"I know you enjoy most of it. But I also see that you struggle with some shit."

He wanted to shake his head and say 'no' but was stopped instantly by a warning finger in front of Negan's lips and a pause that was intended to remind him of the rules. 

"One little shit in particular, and that's the third sub I added to the mix."

Something hot and uncomfortable popped through his chest, making him feel both guilty and angry at the same time.

Negan lifted his sub's chin with the side of his index finger, then held it in place with the support of his thumb. "I know it feels strange. It is new, it is different, but I want you to remember that I have known Rick for a very long time. I've dated and fucked him long before I met you." His heart got stabbed by the severely hurt expression in blue eyes. It caused him to soften his tone a bit and affectionately pinch the chin he was holding. "If I would have wanted to make him my fucking boyfriend, my partner, or my permanent sub, I would have done it. But I did the fuck not. He is my friend and I love him as such. He is also a hot little fucker and I enjoy having him sub for me. But all of that has nothing to do with anything you and I have going on. Right? He won't share my bed, he won't wear my collar, he won't ever replace my sweetheart." He paused again, arching his brows at Daryl. "Because he's not. He is Shane's partner. Not mine. Daryl is my partner and that's exactly how I want it to be." He pulled his hand back and as soon as he did, Daryl's head dropped into his lap to hide and take a breath in private. He allowed it, slowly raking his fingers through long hair. "You may speak now. Tell me what you think."

For the longest time Daryl said nothing, just buried his nose and ten fingernails deeply into thick terrycloth while he soaked it with his breath. And he didn't change his position in the slightest when he finally mumbled a very low, very insecure statement. "'can beat you up."

Negan understood the mumbled words without a problem and wasn't offended in any way, instead, he answered in all seriousness. "Very true. I gave you permission to beat the hell outa me if I hurt your feelings, right?" He tickled the back of a collared neck. "But you can also tell me respectfully or you may show your signal. At any fucking time." He paused again. "You have a question or should we nap now." Hot breath soaked his robe-covered genitals for almost a minute before a shy question came. 

"'s it with fuckin'."

"Probably at some point. Not in any bedroom and not in a loving, fuckin' romantic way. But I want sexual activities involved in play. Makes it more fun and interesting." Negan tugged his sub's ear playfully. "Nothing will ever happen behind your back, though, or without your visible consent. Right? Tell me what consent means."

Daryl didn't want to. Images of a beautiful Negan making love to the Cowboyboots-guy stomped through his head like a Russian marching band, making him want to kill someone. But the rule was to speak when he was spoken to and he really didn't want to risk a strike because the hotel had an awesome pool in the basement, so he lifted his head and spat his answer with an angry wave of his forearm. "That I wan' it! But I don'!"

Negan caught his boy's wrist, raising his voice into a firmer tone. "It means, I won't engage in any sexual activity with him as long as my partner doesn't approve. It also means, it is my job to make you comfortable with the whole situation and to respect your limits." He released Daryl's arm, sitting back comfortably in his chair. "Play with other people is solely for fun and I wanna enjoy it together with my partner." He paused a moment, holding eye contact. "Kneel as I like it, please." 

Daryl tried to will his rapid heartbeat down, having difficulties to bring his thoughts and feelings into order. But he was given the time he needed, and when he finally moved into a correct posture with straight back and spread knees, he was fed a single raisin.

"You did awesome today. Getting up so early, no fucking fidgeting during the flight, you helped with the interview, you unpacked all my shit, and you gave me a great room tour. Fuckin' proud of you." 

"Hm." Daryl flicked his head, smiling a little because he had almost forgotten about all the good things he had done.

Negan waved two fingers towards the bed. "You wanna take the robe off and present on my bed. Naptime."

Daryl glanced over his shoulder at the big hotel bed and then back at Negan, a hand between his legs to squeeze his penis. "'s no bucket."

"No speaking unless you have my permission." Negan waved his fingers a second time. "Hands off your dick. Robe off. Go present." His order was followed this time. He stayed seated, though, just watching for now as his boy shyly positioned himself on the mattress, chest and shoulders down, ass up in the air. "Nice. Spread your legs a bit more."

Daryl held his breath, shuffling his knees wider apart. It felt naughty and his dick twitched as on cue.

"That's right. You wanna show me your balls hangin'." Negan admired his sub's backside a moment longer before he got up and without a comment vanished in the bathroom. He came back with a bottle of lube, snapped the cap open, squirted a generous amount down Daryl's bare asscrack and flung the bottle somewhere on the nightstand. "We don't need a bucket today, right?" With two fingers spread out, he massaged the thick fluid around an already twitching entrance, before he pressed them both against the muscle, entering just the fraction of an inch. "Rick will come later to put some fresh sheets on for me."

Daryl groaned and arched his back. When Negan brought him down to the kennel for naptime there was never any play with his butt or naughty words.

"So you wanna be good and make a nice, big puddle for him to clean up." Negan put a knee on the mattress, reaching around his sub's hip to grasp his free-hanging dick with one hand, while the other kept working on a throbbing muscle, pushing in a bit further. "Who knows, maybe next time I get him to collect some sweet puppy cum with that fuckin' bucket while I sit and watch and have some coffee." He increased the pace a bit, earning a desperate little keening sound. "Mhm, that's right... he can bring it to me like a good boy and then go back upstairs so I can snuggle my puppy to sleep, isn't that right sweetheart..."

Daryl squeezed his eyes shut, panting hard. He tried to nod as well and form a spoken answer but apparently nothing came out because his rigid hard penis was tugged harshly to remind him of the rules. "Yes."

"Good boy, you wanna focus on me." Negan leaned forward to catch a look at his fingers disappearing inside a wet, pink hole. It made him groan in satisfaction and spit on his boy's crack. "That ass is mine tonight."

Daryl's head dropped towards the mattress when his knees started to buckle. The fast, rough pace his dick was stroked at made his voice sound a bit weird, hoarse and strangely high-pitched at the same time. It made his arms tremble and his toes curl... before his entire body froze and just a second later exploded into a million pieces. 

Somewhere, kind of muffled he heard a deep, silky chuckle and a nice comment about the amount of cum he had produced. A wet, warm cloth was wiped over his bare butt and genitals, and just a moment later he found himself under a ridiculously comfortable blanket, cool and heavy, when he was safely pulled against a bare chest. Maybe he fell asleep only four seconds later, maybe with his lips parted and a bit of saliva trickling on the pillow, but surely as one of the most content men in silly San Francisco.


	5. Black

In conjunction with the Leather Factory and Mister S, the NLA-I hosted one of the biggest, annual BDSM events in California. A lavish, very formal, high-protocol dinner party at the Bently Reserve with 802 handpicked attendees. All the top nobs and big names, the community's most influential and powerful people, along with their submissive companions.

One of them went by the scene-name of 'Jesus' and looked especially gorgeous for the occasion with his long hair bound back into a tame bun to direct the focus more towards his bright blue eyes. Outfit-wise, he had to go with the required dress code for submissives. Barefoot with a pair of tight, black pants and a chest hugging, white t-shirt. 

Depending on their status, all the s-types attending the party were also instructed to wear ribbons, either in black or purple, to signal whether they were available and interested or owned and off-limits. 

Considering the announced list of fine Daddy-material who would supposedly roam the holy halls of the Bently Reserve, Paul wasn't quite sure what color to go with and in the end decided to wear a combination of both, pinned to the left side of his chest.

"Ah there you are, Daddy! Uuuh... nice photo." It was still 25 minutes until the car was supposed to arrive, so he flopped down on one of the plush couches in the hotel lobby to read the guest-list-leaflet for the event. "Negan, arguably Atlanta's reigning king of kink, lives in a downtown penthouse with a panoramic view of the skyline. He is not only a successful businessman, educator, and multiple title holder, he also represents the leather community across the US and Europe. He's organizing fundraising events on a frequent basis, and donates 50% of his speaking and teaching fees to a registered charity that assists male victims of domestic viole-"

"Yeah, enough of that." Negan snatched the leaflet out of his sub's hands and snapped his fingers to demand full attention. "I said you wanna fucking sit and listen!"

Paul smiled, crossed his legs up on the couch cushion, and zipped his lips.

Daryl gave him a sideglance before mimicking the posture and nervously looking up at Negan. He wasn't feeling well for the past hour, since Jesus had dressed him in the party outfit and made his hair all shiny with four minutes of combing and a ton of fancy products, before he had tied the side parts back in a loose knot at the back of his head. 

As a Dominant, Negan's dress code wasn't as specific as long as it contained leather and was kind of formal. So he had chosen a pair of black pants as well, partly untied lace-up leather boots, and a fitted, black leather trench-coat in mid-length over a tight black button-down shirt, both with the sleeves pushed up to expose his underarms and the stainless steel bracelet he wore around his wrist. He looked absolutely stunning and he knew it. "We're attending a high protocol party tonight. There will be food, there will be socializing. But the emphasis is on service and adhering to the rules." He wiggled two fingers in boy number two's direction. "Paul. Repeat the rules for me."

The young man didn't miss a beat. "Don't speak without permission. Don't eat or drink without permission. Don't use the furniture without permission. Don't leave to have a smoke or use the bathroom without permission. Aaand... focus on the dominant crowd the whole evening."

"That's right. The entire event is supposed to highlight the contrast of power in D/s relationships. Respect and authority." Negan paused a moment, locking eyes with Daryl who already seemed petrified by the whole idea. "There will be many submissives tonight and they all are in service to the house. That means, they will serve drinks and food and tend to the needs of the dominant guests." He paused again, arching his brows at Jesus who exhaled in slight annoyance. "To make sure that everything runs fuckin' smoothly... there will be someone in charge to coordinate all the house subs for the night. He will give a briefing at the beginning and tell everybody what to do during the event."

Daryl raised his hand because he really needed to ask something. 

"Yes, speak."

"'s it you?"

"Am I in charge of all the house subs tonight? No. It's Cole. He is a very experienced sub and you wanna treat him with respect."

Daryl really didn't want that but didn't say it out loud. Instead, he pushed his luck and added a second question to the first. "Where are you?"

"Where will I be during the evening? In the banquet hall, sitting with the other guys. You'll come and serve me dinner and a nice drink, right?"

Horrible images of fancy people in tuxedos and white porcelain plates popped into Daryl's head, making him feel a bit nauseous. He nodded anyway, mumbling a consternated answer. "Okay."

"Lastly... I want you to remember that you represent me, my name, and my business. So if you break the rules or behave poorly it will directly reflect on me."

The nausea in Daryl's stomach reached a severe level.

Negan was aware of it and beckoned his sub over with three fingers. "Ksst. Come here." He waited patiently until the order was carried out and grasped Daryl's chin to create eye contact for a serious talk in private. "I don't care much about these events. But they are part of the game and people expect me to attend."

Daryl shifted on his feet, nervously licking his lips.

"That doesn't mean that you have to fuckin' suffer the whole night. You wanna leave, you let me know and we leave. You may sit with me if you need to. You can also use your signal at any time." Negan arched his brows. "Right? You wanna use it now and rather stay here? Watch a movie and have some snacks?" He received a resolute 'No' immediately and smiled. "No? You wanna be a brave puppy and check out the party? See if it's really that bad?"

Daryl shrugged half a shoulder, again shifting from the left foot to the right. "I can."

"Mhm. Are your feet cold?"

He scratched his ear. "'bit."

"'course." Negan groaned, "Fuckin' dress code made by idiots..." snapping his fingers for boy number two to get up. "Chop, chop. Lyft is here." 

\----

The Venue was located downtown in the financial district, classy and elegant with a historical touch. Imposing white columns guarded the grand entrance where all the guests were encouraged to stop at the black and white media wall for some press and photos. 

Negan stood back, charmingly stalling time while a slightly blushed Mister Grimes posed for a couple of pictures, holding on to Shane's arm. He had chosen not to wear the required outfit for submissives and instead tried his best to look self-assertive in a fitted navy suit and shiny shoes, next to a man who was the epitome of confidence. 

Paul and Daryl walked up the long, black carpet hand in hand, one a sparkling ball of energy, the other with his head down and shoulders hunched. Negan followed right behind and, reaching the media wall, caught up with his subs to claim the space between them, taking both firmly by the hand with a disarming smile on his lips. ... for exactly five photos, before he sent his boys gently aside, so the photographers would have the chance to capture the perfect solo image of Mister International Leather and the sublimity that was his face. 

Inside, the Bently was even more impressive. High ceilings, shiny marble floors, spectacular chandeliers. Daryl's gaze wandered around in awe while a tall man guarded him safely through the entrance hall. There was a very big room to the left with a ridiculously long table in its middle. But they went right past it and instead stopped at a sign announcing 'The Green Room', even though the room behind wasn't green at all. 

"Good evening, Sir." A man in his thirties with short blond hair and glasses performed some sort of a curtsey. "This is actually the room for slaves and subs. Would you like me to take you to the banquet hall?"

"No." Negan knew Cole from various events and wasn't a big fan, but tried to lead by example when it came to respectful behavior and therefore refrained from grabbing him by the scruff of the neck. "I wanna talk to whoever is responsible for tonight's dress code. My boy's fuckin' feet are freezing the fuck off and if he piddles on my sheets tonight I wanna know who to call for a fuckin' mop and bucket." 

"Uhm-" Cole pushed his glasses back on his nose with a single fingertip. He knew who Negan was and was an avid fan for years, but the man's blunt choice of wording baffled him a little. "I worked out the dress code, Sir? I thought bare feet would emphasize the beauty and aesthetic of the subservience we try to provide tonight." He cleared his throat. "And according to weather dot com, we can expect a balmy night with 75 degrees."

"Mhm." Negan grimaced, squinting one eye. "According to my fuckin' tape measure, he wears a size 10." He stepped half an inch closer, tapping the man's nose with one gloved finger. "You don't wanna mop the floors tonight, I am sure." And with that, he turned his back on the event's Majordomo to give his full attention to boy number one. "You stay here with Paul. Cole will tell you what your chores are tonight and teach you how to serve the guests. I am next door if you need me." He didn't ask a question and was pleased when no comment was made, but wary blue eyes peeked up at him. He leaned in, speaking against Daryl's lips. "You look fuckin' beautiful. You'll be great." With the side of his finger, he caressed a pale cheek, offered a genuine smile, and turned to Paul, tugging both of the ribbons attached to his shirt. "Black only."

A radiant smile spread over Paul's face. "Thought I check out my options."

"Black." Negan pulled the purple ribbon off. "Only." He cocked a brow at his sub, "Be good." and left to claim a seat at the banquet table.

"Pff..." Jesus looked after him, shaking his head as he nudged Cole with his elbow. "As if I could ever look at anyone else, right..."

\----

Negan had been right, there were a lot of subs at the event. 141. And all of them gathered in the Green Room, sitting on the floor. Daryl liked that. He was one of so many that he just blended in with the crowd. 

Cole had not given him shoes yet, probably because everyone here had bare feet. Or maybe because he was so busy reciting a piece of strange poetry he found fitting for the occasion. He also knew all the subs by name and asked everyone present to raise their hand if this was their first formal dinner and act of service for the house. Daryl only lifted two of his fingers an inch off his thigh but when he looked left and right he saw at least half of the people with their arms up in the air. 

For twenty minutes, Cole spoke about proper table service etiquette, followed by a demonstration on how to pour wine and carry a full tray, including some special tips and tricks to provide smooth service without intruding on the Dominants dining experience.

"We hold glasses by the stem and cutlery from the middle to minimize the appearance of fingerprints!"

Jesus puffed out his cheeks, "Boooring." then let his head fall back in annoyance. "We're missing all the fun!"

Cole shot the young man a glance of disapproval instantly. "And we want to remember to always exhibit proper posture! Do not slouch, cross your arms, or leave your hands in your pockets while on service!"

Daryl looked from Paul to the weird teacher-sub and back again, then gave Mister Rovia a nudge in the ribs because he was definitely slouching. 

"And lastly, be aware of the three A's. We will be approachable, available, and attentive." Cole put both hands over his passionately beating heart. "Smile brightly, Gentlemen! We are in charge of their wellbeing and we take great pride in it. It's our code of conduct." A bit teary-eyed, he applauded himself and everyone listening to his lectures with the upper part of his fingers. "Now let's get out there and have fun!"

\----

Formal events in the leather community could sometimes turn out a little preposterous, almost like a fancy ball with masquerade, or grown-ups in ridiculous outfits holding a very grotesque tea-party. The annual dinner party at the Bently Reserve was different, though, probably because the attendees were carefully selected and none of them had the patience or mindset for the quirky roleplayers of the scene. 

Negan appreciated that and at thirty minutes in, genuinely enjoyed himself and his company. The banquet hall measured a good 124 feet in length and almost the same dimension had the spectacular table cutting through its middle, covered and decorated with a bright white table cloth, countless brass candle holders, and an abundance of dark red Peruvian lilies which symbolized devotion and trust. The guests were seated along the left and right in descending order of social rank, starting from the middle where Negan and his entourage sat surrounded by other influential people and former titleholders. The atmosphere was joyful right from the start, the room filled with deep laughter and masculine voices, thanks to the general likemindedness and great friendships formed over the years. 

Shane was relatively new to the scene but engaged in a very lively conversation with a couple of CBT enthusiasts from Los Angeles he had met at a recent demo. 

Negan sat comfortably on his chair, leaning heavily into the backrest, one leg stretched out, one wrist on the edge of the table, while the other arm rested casually on the backrest of Rick's chair to provide a bit of subtle support. He laughed at something the man to his other side explained. Brian, who had traveled all the way from Australia just to meet some of his friends.

"Seven! I couldn't believe it!"

"Resourceful." Negan snorted. "Hope you preserved it somehow."

"Not really." Brian chuckled, sipping his drink. "Thomas is picky." 

"Selective, maybe." Negan didn't lose his relaxed posture but looked up when the first subs entered the room from the far right, announced by name and affiliation. They walked in a row, all looking somehow alike in their black pants and white shirts, each of them carrying a tray with either champagne flutes or appetizers. 

The house subs with purple ribbon were introduced first, followed by the ones that were owned. 

"James Burns! Available! Jasper Andrews! Available! Teddy Smith! Available! Jorn Kraft! Available!" They all smiled confidently when the voice from the speakers called their names out, balancing their trays effortlessly in one hand. "Farid! Hakan's household! Leroy and Terry! Master William's household! Tom! Brian's household! Lex! Eric's household! Tyler! Giovanni's household! Daryl and Jesus! Negan's household!" 

"What the hell is this," Mister Grimes furrowed his brows with a slight scowl. "Some kind of purity ball?"

Negan smirked but didn't say anything and had to admit he was kind of proud when both of his subs entered the room, one subtle guarding the other with his more outgoing presence and natural charm. They looked equally gorgeous, the only ones with long hair even if it was bound back today. He could see that Daryl fought with his shyness, his hands trembling beneath the tray, eyes firmly on the cut-up fruit and salted nuts he transported, his shoulders hunched a bit, certainly wishing to be invisible. Paul had five champagne flutes on his tray and chose to highlight his handsome face with a slight smile that made his eyes shine in pure grace.

More and more subs were announced, swarming the elegant space like a busy ant colony. The ones leading the way had reached the head of the long table and started to serve, before they disappeared through an archway on the left, once their trays were empty. 

Of course, Jesus hadn't been a dummy and had calculated the best starting position to their little show walk so they would be able to deliver the fancy-schmancy goodies to their actual partners and not just anyone. And he kept his lips professionally zipped and curved into a charming smile as he smoothly placed a glass of champagne in front of every man he called his Daddy. 

Daryl followed him, holding his breath because his tray clattered dangerously in his trembling fingers. He didn't dare to look up, exhaling in distress when it was his turn to serve the appetizers. The tray bumped against the back of Rick's head as he tried to present what he had available but he couldn't apologize because nobody had asked a question and then a big blackberry rolled off his tray, landing on Negan's shoulder.

...his owner caught it effortlessly. "Are you being such a good service puppy tonight?" He popped the berry into his mouth and moved a bit sideways with his chair so his sub had more space to work with. "Come here, show me what you got."

Daryl felt instantly better when his leg touched Negan's thigh and he was spoken to in such a friendly tone. He lowered the tray a bit clumsy. "'s stars." Cole had told them what all the food items were called but he couldn't remember.

"Starfruit." Negan clarified, nodding with his chin to the other options. "I don't like them. What else do you serve."

"Grapes." Green and blue without any seeds. "'n nuts." With salt or wasabi coating.

"Very nice. I'll take some." Negan leaned another inch back as he gestured to the free space on the table right in front of him.

Daryl exhaled soundly and took one of the tiny glass bowls he had on his tray, putting three grapes and seven nuts inside, then licked the salt off his fingers and placed the snack on the white table cloth right next to the champagne flute, exhaling again because all this high protocol service really stressed him out. 

"Thank you so much." Negan patted the back of his boy's thigh. "You wanna go back to Cole now and see what else you can serve. Daddy's hungry."

"Hm." Daryl flicked his head even though there wasn't any hair hanging in his face and slowly carried the shiny silver tray towards the posh archway where all the other subs went through.

Jesus wanted to follow but a hand on his wrist stopped him. He leaned down as discreetly as possible. "Yes, Sir?"

Negan nodded at boy number two's bare feet. "I still see a lot of bare fuckin' little piggies down there."

"I guess he forgot. Should I ask him again?"

"Please." Negan gave a nod, affectionately squeezing Paul's fingers. "You're doin' great. Thanks bugger."

Paul was released and gracefully leaned in for a low message in private. "My pleasure, Sir." He nudged the tip of his nose against neatly trimmed scruff and disappeared with the rest of the servantry.

"Maybe I'm biased," Shane took his champagne and placed the untouched glass in front of Rick. "But they definitely stand out."

Negan raised his own glass to such undeniable facts, taking a sip. 

Brian chuckled, stealing one of the peanuts. 

\----

Once the appetizer-serving-round was done, the number one topic among all the purple-ribbon wearing subs behind the scenes was the exquisite line-up of dominant males. And the name most mentioned was 'Negan'. Whereas 'mentioned' was maybe not the right term. It was more a gushing all over him before serious bickering started in the left back corner of the room around a cream-colored Biedermeier-sofa where seven as available classified submissives fought over the absolute flirt monopoly with Mister International Leather.

"No, he offers another place for a permanent." Jasper got his cell phone out to show the corresponding Facebook post. "Here. It's valid."

Jore read the statement, grimacing. "Rules me out then, needs to be someone who's willing to live in Atlanta."

James chuckled. "Dude I would move to the Arctis for him, or the bottom of a volcano."

"Yeah, go!" Daryl waved a furious forearm from his place in a safe 30-foot distance where he listened to the ridiculous conversation.

"Ssh." Paul gently stirred him in the opposite direction, keeping his voice discreetly low. "We can't act out here. He'd be disappointed."

Daryl went with Jesus towards the Bently's huge kitchen but glanced back over his shoulder. "'s bullshit!"

"Of course it is but let's not burst their pink bubbles before dessert."

\----

The next course was a potato cream soup with caramelized leek and saffron, and even though the portion size was pretty minimalistic, Mister Dixon obviously had his difficulties to transport it through the huge banquet room without spilling anything. 

Negan leaned back in his chair, silently watching the whole scenario and then tried his best to stay cool and collected when another sub harshly pushed in front and served him a bowl of soup with a charming smile on his face. Daryl was first perplexed, then looked absolutely crestfallen, before a spark of rage flickered through his blue eyes, ready to strangle James with his purple ribbon.

"Sst." Negan signaled very subtle for his rude waiter to stay close to the table, then addressed his own sub in a firm tone. "Boy. You wanna serve it to Rick and come sit with me. I want some company while I eat my soup." 

Daryl didn't move, scowling at his tray. "'t was for you."

"Thank you. I am sharing it with Rick. So serve him the fuckin' soup please." Negan had to wait seven seconds before his wish was stubbornly granted and then moved back with his chair to offer a place on his thigh.

Daryl didn't dare to look anywhere, stiffly taking a seat. 

"Here." Negan took the silver tray out of Daryl's fingers and held it out for James to take. "My boy skips serving the next course to keep me company. You wanna bring us some nice salad with an oil-free dressing."

James Burns wasn't sure whether he was the luckiest guy alive for receiving a direct order from the man himself, or if he had maybe just experienced the biggest rebuff in the history of courting. Either way, he gave a polite nod and retreated backward before he discreetly vanished through the service entrance. 

"Maybe I should take him home." Rick shrugged, adding more salt to his fancy food. "He seems determined." 

Shane smirked, patting his partner's knee underneath the table. "Do that."

"You wanna sit up straight and keep your fucking shirt clean." Negan took the salt shaker and put it next to his employee's plate, "Eat." then tickled boy number one's side. "And you wanna tell me why your feet are still bare."

Daryl really didn't want to talk but answered anyway after four grumpy seconds. "Didn' get shoes." ...and then flinched when his thigh got swatted.

"Public!"

It made him add a mumbled 'Sir' to his answer and then focus on the nice stingy feeling of hotness spreading all over his skin.

"Better. Later you tell Cole that I expect him to show up at my table." Negan affectionately rubbed the spot he had swatted. "The soup has cream in it. You wanna eat it anyway or wait for the salad?"

Daryl shrugged half a shoulder. "the salad." He didn't care much for any of the stupid food but at least remembered in time that they were still in public. "Sir."

He wasn't praised with words but a single raisin was fed to him before he spent the next 8 minutes, sitting with the most popular Dom of the event, while the other subs of the house were only allowed to clear dirty dishes and serve new food and drinks. He liked it. Shane laughing hysterically about something Brian said. Rick looking genuinely guilty when a drop of soup landed on his nice suit jacket. Jesus magically pulling an entire bag of extra croutons out of his very tight outfit as he passed three of his dads on the way out. And Negan laughing, deep and full, a firm hand rubbing circles to the curve between his lower back and buttocks. 

He ate three slices of tomato, a bit of carrot, and a lot of baby leaf lettuce, all from Negan's fork. He also got to drink from Negan's glass, was made to blow his nose in a leather-scented paper tissue, and gave an almost polite answer to a question Brian asked about the Eagle in Atlanta. He was rewarded for all of it by a comment spoken in low voice, right next to his ear in a very private manner. 

Sometimes it was good to be Daryl.

\----

The entree was a filo triangle filled with okra, blackeyed peas, red peppers, and broccoli on a scoop of wild rice, and Daryl managed to serve it all to Negan in time before anybody else could.

"Looks great! Did you bring me the biggest serving available?"

He wasn't prepared for questions, though, and scratched his head, looking a bit clueless to the left and right where the other subs delivered the exact same amount of food to other Doms. He sniffed his nose and licked a stray rice kernel off his thumb. "'can bring you more."

"That won't be necessary," Negan patted the back of his sub's thigh. "But you wanna send Cole."

Daryl's voice slipped instantly into a defensive tone as he waved his hand angrily towards the service entrance. "Told him! Fucker won' listen!" 

"Mhm." Negan snapped his fingers for his sub to kneel down next to his chair and was aware that the sudden shade of pink on Daryl's face wasn't caused by the small share of alcohol floating around in his blood system. "I don't like your tone. What did I tell you before we left the hotel."

Daryl stared at Negan's chair, his stomach feeling tight and much too hot. "Behave."

"Why."

He lifted a finger up at Negan. "Your name."

"What."

He crinkled his nose, looking down at his knees. "'cause of your name." and after two seconds added a mumbled 'Sir' to his answer because they were very much in public.

Negan snapped his fingers again, signaling for his sub to get up. "Thank you for telling him. You go back now and serve me a nice dessert. Something with chocolate would be nice."

"Hm." Daryl didn't say more because he wasn't asked a question and felt kind of bad when he turned around to leave the table, wondering whether the other guests already said bad things about Negan and his wonderful business because of him or because Jesus had stolen croutons and a strawberry from one of the plates.

And once he was through the service entrance he felt even worse because everyone was supposed to serve a really fancy glass of dessert with a weird ornament made of sugar and a sparkler on top that was supposed to still burn once they reached the table. Therefore they had to carry the small silver tray in just one hand and have a lighter ready in the other, to subtle light the sparkler while walking through the door to nice music and festively dimmed lights.

"Hold your heads up high, we want to shine!" Cole pulled some of the young men in place and pushed a couple of chins up before he clapped his hands and led the way into the banquet hall to parade his mentees. 

"Jesus Christ." Paul popped a soaked cherry into his mouth before grabbing a tray and getting in line. "I better get a real good fuck tonight. Sideways and crossways." 

\----

"Jesus Christ..." Shane slumped a bit deeper into his seat, rubbing his forehead with thumb and forefinger. "What's next. Angelwings and tiaras?"

Negan didn't comment, just silently followed his personal new archnemesis Cole with an icy stare, curious whether this unreliable sack of cow dung would make a stop at his table.

After 3 and half minutes he got the answer, when Cole positioned himself in the middle of the room with a microphone to hold a rambling speech about the history of the event and the privilege of being appointed the majordomo, while all the house subs marched along the entire length of the banquet table, starting to light the sparklers. Most of them very smoothly with a subtle click of the lighter, eyes front, charming smile firmly in place. 

Just sub number 24 in line had slight difficulties to do it all at once. The stupid lighter didn't work right away, the dessert glass almost slid off the small silver tray, and when he cursed and stopped and tried to catch it all, sub number 25 bumped hard into his back. Seven young men were directly involved in the unfortunate collision, at least nine polished dessert glasses fell to the ground in a cacophony of clatter and clinking and ended as a mix of paper-thin shards and sticky chocolate mousse all over the floor and 10 pairs of bare feet. 

The Doms sitting the closest jumped up immediately to make sure nobody was moving, using their heavy leather footwear to shove some of the shards out of the way.

"Gentlemen, please stay seated!" Cole hectically gestured for the remaining house-subs to continue serving. "We don't want anyone to get hurt!" 

Daryl froze in place, standing in a cold brown puddle, his feet stinging, his insides burning in shame like fire. His head shot up, eyes searching in panic for a tall man with leather coat in all this chaos. He couldn't find him though. Everyone was up and walking around, speaking loudly over the silly festive background music and the flustered teacher-sub with the microphone. A young man yelled at him for being so stupid, another shoved him hard in the chest, almost making him lose his balance. He stumbled a step back and then really fell when a furious young man jumped past him to seriously fistfight Jasper Andrews.

"DON'T TOUCH HIM YOU FUCKING SHLUB!" Paul threw the baffled sub back first into the wall, making a vase with three fancy flowers fall to the floor. "IT'S NOT HIS FAULT THAT YOU'RE TOO BLIND TO ACTUALLY WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING!" 

Sub James came to Jasper's rescue, trying to pull Jesus back by the shoulder only to be very effectively stopped by one of the Doms. 

Shane Walsh from Atlanta, Georgia, who found the whole scene mildly amusing.

"HEY!" Another ugly vase shattered against the wall to undergird the deep, very serious voice putting an end to all this nonsense. "Watch your fucking step and go back to the kitchen!" Negan scrunched up his face in contempt as he eyed Cole across the room, expecting him to go with the others. "NOW!"

A Dom from Virginia tried to suppress a grin as he walked by, guarding two of the directly involved subs out of the room. Shane did the same, wrapping a firm arm around furious Paul's waist, "Okay, enough man." half carrying him behind the scenes.

Daryl scrambled to his feet, blinking fast, his breathing trying to keep up with his rapid heartbeat. And one glance at the tall angry man shouting orders to several people made him hectically sink back down to collect some muddy shards from the ground. He picked up three, then wasn't sure where to put them and flinched when his shoulder was touched.

"Don't touch that shit." Negan didn't sound angry, more annoyed and a little bit worried. "Get up, you wanna go back and clean your feet."

Daryl smeared some chocolate mousse across his cheek when he rose to his feet and attempted to wipe a strand of hair out of his face that wasn't even there because Paul had tied it back today. "'m sorry." His voice sounded weirder than it usually did and he flinched once more when a hand touched his back. Then he held his breath and closed his eyes because his head was pushed against a very familiar chest and warm lips spoke right against his hair. In a nice low voice, all in private.

"Not your fault, don't worry about it. Be good and go with Rick, I'm coming in a minute." 

\----

A lot of dominant men gathered in the location's Green Room after the ruined final course, which was very nerve-wracking to the evening's head-sub in charge, but not as nerve-wracking as having to approach the most famous of them all. Negan, the owner and CEO of Leather Factory incorporated, face of the worldwide leather community, current Mister international Leather and honorary guest to his event.

"Neg... uhm, Mistre H-" He cleared his throat, trying to stand a little more upright. "Sir? I want to use the opportunity to profoundly apologize. It was my fault." He put a hand on his chest. "I accept full responsibility and if there's anything I can do to make up for this unfortunate incident please let me know."

Negan sat on the ugliest cream-colored Biedermeier-sofa that had ever touched his glorious ass cheeks, trying his best not to barf as he wagged one gloved finger in the air, then pointed it down to the free space next to his stretched out leg.

Cole was irritated for a second but the submissive deeply embedded in his core understood the hint, "Of course, Sir." and he sank down on his knees, as gracefully as possible, lowering his head. 

"Take my fuckin' shoes off."

He glanced up with half an eye, not sure if he had understood the order correctly. But since he wasn't asked again and the man sitting on the couch just gave him an expectant stare, he nodded once, "Very well." and humbly got to work.

Negan watched for a while before he started to speak, very calmly. "See, the thing is... you are wrong. It's not your fuckin' fault."

"Oh thank you, Sir," A little smile made Cole's flattered face shine while he fumbled with the most precious shoelaces he had ever laid eyes on. "-that's really-"

"Yeah, I'm fuckin' talking, not you." Negan had no patience for the unprofessional guy by his feet. "It's not your fucking fault because it is mine. I should have declined the invitation the minute I learned what the idiotic dress code would be. But guess what?" He pulled the right foot out of his boot and held the left one out for Cole to work on. "I was fuckin' irresponsible and dragged my boys out here anyway with goddamnfucking BARE feet! And then I decided to stay even though I was aware that you had no intention to fix the problem as I politely asked you to!" He flared his nostrils, "Imagine that!" leaning forward to be a lot closer to Cole's pale face. "And now, thanks to my stupidity, they sit out there with a fuckin' chill on the bladder, getting their formerly fuckin' perfect feet patched up! My evening is ruined. Their first fuckin' high protocol event was a disaster." He held eye contact for a moment, then blindly pulled his socks off, grabbed his boots and got up. "Good thing is, it won't happen again." He went past the young man, dismissing any offer of amends. "Remove my name from the guest list next year." 

There was a lot of tongue wagging and mouths gaping when twenty minutes later five men left the elegant Bently Reserve through the main entrance. Stunning sub Jesus, cheerful as ever, riding piggyback on Mister Walsh's broad back, due to a small cut on the sole of his left foot, while the most respected Dom in the business strode barefoot over the black carpet, holding his permanent sub Daryl firmly by the hand, who, contrary to the applicable dress code, wore a much too big pair of socks and shoes to protect his patched up feet. A fifth man followed them, head down, busy to rub a mysterious speck of chocolate mousse off his fitted navy suit. The scene was captured in several pictures for next day's gossip column.

\----

Daryl had no idea that San Francisco had an Eagle as well. It was bigger and more crowded than the one in Atlanta and Jesus seemed to enjoy it quite a bit, being literally devoured alive by Shane on the dancefloor. Grinding and sharing open-mouthed, obscene kisses to the hard beats under flickering strobe lights. 

Daryl stood near the bar, watching mesmerized how Shane smoothly got rid of his shirt while dryfucking his boyfriend unashamedly against a pole for everyone to see, amidst hundreds of dancing guys. 

"Boy." Negan nudged him with a glass of Scotch. "You wanna take that to the lounge I said."

"Hm." Daryl blinked twice, almost spilled a bit of the drink as he took the Scotch in one hand and Negan's wallet in the other, pushing his way through the crowd. It was hot and humid, very loud and a thick smell of sweat and something musky hung in the air. It got a bit better once he reached the private lounge reserved for special guests, but still, he wasn't able to understand what Rick was saying, drowned out by the music. That's why he just shared a very faint smile with half a corner of his mouth and placed the Scotch on the table. 

Brian was there as well with his sub Tom and a third man Daryl didn't know by name. He didn't talk to any of them and was glad when Negan arrived with a glass of water for Rick and a drink he had never seen before. Fingers were snapped for him. He couldn't hear the sound but he followed the signal of two of them pointing to the ground, between long legs. His spot, the one always reserved for him, where it was safe and kind of private even in the middle of a full nightclub. 

He spent 40 minutes sitting there, listening to the pounding beats of the music, the deep, booming laughter of the men he was with, enjoyed the occasional fingers caressing his hair and face, and the drink fed to him. It had alcohol in it but he couldn't tell which one. It tasted fruity and not very strong. 

In minute 41, Shane came back, shirtless and glistening with sweat, raking a hand through his hair before he claimed the leather armchair next to Negan, immediately engaging in the conversation the others were holding. Daryl looked around in slight confusion and finally tapped Shane's knee to ask where Jesus was. He received no answer though, probably because he didn't speak loud enough to be heard over the loud music. Instead, Shane smiled down at him and fed him the slice of lemon that had been swimming in his water. Daryl liked it and figured that Paul must have been okay because nobody seemed to be worried. 

After 45 minutes, Negan shifted in his seat and took his jacket off, opening the first three buttons of his shirt. Daryl could see that the short hair at the sides of his head was damp, as well as his neck and forehead. It glistened in the flickering lights and he liked it a lot. 

After 52 minutes, Paul Rovia was suddenly back, appearing like magic behind Negan's chair, wrapping his arms around him from behind, nuzzling perfectly trimmed facial hair as he obviously said something right next to Negan's ear. Negan tilted his head back a little, listening, then nodded and reached back with one hand, affectionately cupping the side of Paul's face, holding him in place for a while. Daryl watched it and had to smile when he realized that Jesus looked back at him, smiling as well. 

After 61 minutes, Paul had changed dads and sat on Rick's lap, an arm wrapped loosely around the man's shoulders while he checked his phone. 

After 68, minutes at the San Francisco Eagle, Daryl had his own drink finished, half of Paul's beer, and tried whatever it was that Brian had in his glass. Twice. All combined made him a little bit tired and strangely hot. 

He shuffled a bit closer to his owner's crotch, nudging it once with his nose, and then glanced up in hopes for attention. It came a minute later, in the form of caressing fingers in his hair, before he was directly looked at with challenging eyes and a smirk that made his stomach flip in surprise. A thumb traced the line of his lower lip, pushed into his mouth, and then hooked behind his teeth when his chin was grasped and he was pulled up for a kiss. A long, deep sweep of caress that tasted like Scotch and Negan and made him grind his hips and moan for more. A firm hand stroked up the side of his collared neck, roamed through his hair, not very gentle but full of demand. The kiss stopped and wet lips found the way behind his ear.

"Fuckin' love when you start to sweat..." Negan inhaled soundly, burying his nose into warm, damp strands of hair. "Smells fuckin' amazing." He brought a hand to his sub's ass, squeezing and massaging up and down his crack. "What did I tell you at naptime today."

Daryl exhaled, feeling dizzy somehow as he turned his face and found rough stubble and musky cologne to groan about. "Your ass." The body part in question was grabbed and pulled up a bit to encourage serious humping. 

"Mhm... I said your ass is fucking mine tonight, isn't that right boy..." Negan moved his own middle, his pants painfully tight. "Wanna take you back to the hotel and eat your hole for an hour before I fuck you for two."

A fervent tingle squelched through Daryl's lower abdomen, making his rock hard penis twitch and leak dangerously. He mewled, feeling perspiration dampen his heated skin, and turned his face in the other direction, head resting on a safe shoulder as he rocked his hips and watched the men sitting to his left. Shane and Rick, one handling the other very roughly with a hand fisting thick curls and an aggressive tongue parting blushed lips. It made his heartbeat even faster and he closed his eyes, flexing his thighs in desperation and fear he might cum. "Can you now."

"What do you wanna say."

Daryl exhaled, reaching back to touch the hand kneading his butt and push it down a bit more. "My hole." He had to flex his thighs again as the thought of a wet tongue licking his entrance made his insides throb in need.

Negan chuckled, burying his nose into sweaty hair. "Fuckin' horny puppy."

\----

At 3:22 in the very early morning, on the 11th floor of a fancy hotel, Daryl couldn't wait to go back home. To Atlanta. The awesome factory. The store. His routine. The naughty kennel and Olivia with the secret cookie jar. But for now, being squished into the mattress by a very tall, very relaxed man, was absolutely fine too. 

He could still feel cum oozing out between his cheeks. Could still taste his owner's spit on his tongue. And for once he was brave enough to participate in the exchange of post-coital affection and softly ran his fingers through the short hair at the back of Negan's head which felt far more intimate than anything they had done in the past two hours. He tried not to overdo it though, didn't want to disturb Negan's well-earned rest. didn't want to ruin the moment. 

Because it was really perfect.

He turned his head just the slightest bit, watching the city lights of silly San Francisco through the window... before his eyes drifted shut, his fingers stilled, and his breathing became deep and even. ...really glad that his ribbon had been black and not nastily purple.


	6. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am posting on behalf of the author. I hope it's the right order.
> 
> The pandemic related chapter a reader asked about can be found on the author's tumblr under the title 'Cough-It 19'

Ronny Perloski had taken his good mud grip-tyred-Trump-stickered Chevy C/K pickup truck with Confederate flag license plate and patched-up rust holes all the way from the holy boondocks of Georgia to the big city of Atlanta in a very committed 3-hour drive just to complete his awesome head-to-toe camouflage outfit with a pair of high-quality combat boots at the most recommended leather store a quick google search had suggested. 

Although, he had to admit that he felt a bit suspicious and irritatedly flicked his mullet out of the collar of his vest as he entered the store... before he got really annoyed when some milksop-pantywaist-Harvard grad-shop assistant tried to lecture him about his God-given rights. 

"Sir," Mister Grimes tried his best to come across as polite and professional as humanly possible confronted with the Glock G-19-wearing idiot at his usually very safe workplace. "We have a no-guns policy here." 

Ronny snorted because he had read the constitution and therefore only offered a 'bla-bla' gesture with his right hand as he dismissed the pathetic democrat-shrimp and walked right past him, squinting just briefly at the big cardboard display with the pretty guy in jockstraps and the happy slogan 'Anal-yse me!'.

"Sir!" Rick raised his voice into a firmer tone, following his customer. "I'm sure you've seen the sign at the door! Put your gun in the car and you are welcome to shop here." He gestured towards the door but wasn't even looked at so he jogged after the man and cut off his way. "I am afraid I have to ask you to leave if you don't follow our company policy!"

Ronny sighed dramatically with a shake of the head and turned around to generously face the little runt spoiling his shopping experience. "Listen you clown, your little sign is violating my rights as a paying customer and citizen of America." He waved his fingers in front of the nasty salesperson's face. "So, toddle off to count the change or sweep the parking lot, while I'm doing my business here."

Rick scrunched up his nose, breaking rule number one out of the 'How to deal with a difficult customer'-handbook as he touched Mister Perloski's beefy upper arm. "No you won't. You leave. Now."

"Oh, now you wanna get physical? Had a feeling you're a fucking faggot!" Ronny already saw the new, shiny Ford Bronco that he would buy with the smart-money he planned to sue out of the little whiney pencil-neck, right in front of his eyes. "I wanna talk to the manager."

For a second, Rick wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want Negan involved, since a weapon was involved also and just the thought of a bullet in Negan's direction almost had him faint. The possibility of getting the actual security staff seemed to be the better option, but Abe was out of town right now for advanced training in Boston, and Eugene was at the store to buy a new light barrier for the big gate at the south yard. Glenn behind the counter already had a trembling hand on the phone to call the police if necessary. And Simon and his solid upper arms were nowhere to be seen right now. Which was a shame because the armed customer seemed to be very serious about his claim.

"Well?!" Ronny arched his brows, waving a hand for the inferior Clinton-voter in front of him. "Go get him!"

"Listen-" Rick grimaced, putting both hands on his hips as he tried for a calmer attitude. "I am just asking you to take the-" He had no chance to finish the plea when a very tall man in leather jacket and biker boots entered the store from the employee entrance, a baseball bat over his shoulder, apposite to the grim expression on his handsome face.

"RICK!" Negan saw no reason to keep his voice down as he approached the scene he had watched for two minutes now over the CCTV. "What the hell is all the ruckus in here!"

Rick grimaced again, instantly turning to his boss in an attempt to keep him out of the situation. "It's nothing. I have it under control."

"Mhm." Negan put a hand on his employee's shoulder, pushing him to the right. "Glenn asked for help in the warehouse." 

"I'm not leav-"

Again, Rick didn't get to finish his sentence when the upset customer stepped forward, waving an arm towards Negan. "Who are you?"

"Who am I?" Negan effectively stepped between Rick and the other guy, taking the bat off his shoulder to hold it in both hands in front of his body. "I am the fucking faggot who owns this company. I believe you wanted to talk to me."

In his family of relatively short Perloskis, Ronny was the tallest one, but compared to the leather-wearing dude he was suddenly faced with he seemed rather petite with his 5 ft 6. That's why he shifted on his feet once and needed a second to confidently straighten to full height. "Yeah! That little asshat here tries to strip me off my right to keep and bear Arms. Second Amendment." 

"I told you our company policy doesn't allow guns in the store!" Rick tried again but was kept from pushing past his boss by a firm arm preventing him from stepping forward. "Take it outside and you're welcome to shop here!"

Ronny put a hand on the gun at his belt and leaned forward to make a comment right into Rick's face. "And I am telling you I woke up in a free country this morning!"

"FANTASTIC!" Negan made a step to the right to shield boy number three and simultaneously pushed the customer a few inches backward, wagging a disgusted finger in front of his tacky choice of clothing. "And then you decided to wear that fuckin' butt ugly shirt and come all the way from Hillbillytown just to step on fuckin' private property! Which- you'll be required to leave in the next ten fucking seconds or I'll exercise my constitutional right of fucking self-defense and deflower your chubby virgin ass with my lady here!" He pointed first at the broader upper part of his bat, "So long!" then unequivocally towards the exit. "Have a nice day!"

The sudden change of events put Ronny Perloski into quite a dilemma. He needed a pair of boots and surely wouldn't cave in to a couple of dick suckers. On the other hand, one of them looked somewhat frightening and he had no ammo in his Glock which gave him a bit of a disadvantage should things go south. So he opted for a face-saving way out with his second-best weapon: A middle finger held up in pure contempt, the other hand firmly on his useless gun, while paving his march out of the building with a trail of insults. "FUCKING FUDGE PACKING ASSMONKEYS! BETTER SLEEP WITH ONE EYE OPEN FROM NOW ON! FARTKNOCKERS! GO POKE SOME SHIT!"

Negan kept the stoic posture in front of his employee, watching the customer storm out, the door fall shut, and an old pick-up truck drive off the parking lot with squealing tires. ...before he slowly turned around, waving two fingers in front of Rick's nametag. "Take it off."

"What?" Rick still nervously glanced past Negan's arm to make sure the threat was gone for now.

"You're going back on intern level for the next week until you remember how to act in situations like that. Give me your fucking name tag." 

He squinted in incomprehension. "Yeah right."

Negan lowered his chin, holding a hand out. "Chop, chop."

Rick made half a step back, gesturing at nobody in particular. "What did you expect me to do?! I tried to defuse the situation! It was all under control until you-"

"TAKE THE DAMN TAG OFF, BOY!"

He noticed himself flinch and felt embarrassed about it instantly. It caused him to grimace and avoid his eyes while fumbling with the needle and muttering a rant of frustration. "Can't believe you're blaming this on me."

The black plastic tag was angrily handed over and Negan changed the tone of his voice immediately. "Glenn." He turned toward the check-out. "Take the rest of the day off. Rick is taking over for now."

"Are you serious?" Glenn peeked through the employee entrance, pleasantly surprised.

"I am. Take some money for a pizza. It's on me."

The intern smiled, "Awesome!" grabbed his base cap, his messenger bag, and a twenty-dollar bill from the cash register before he jogged out, waving. "See you later, guys!"

Rick looked after him, hands on his hips. "Was that necessary?"

Negan gestured with his bat towards the box of remote-controlled prostate massagers as he left to get himself a coffee in the staff room. "You wanna unpack."

\----

There were only three more customers the entire morning. One bought a leather jacket with matching pants, the other a pair of neoprene wrist cuffs with lock, and the third just strolled through the store for half an hour until he had found the courage to ask for a picture with Mister International Leather.

Rick didn't mind. It gave him the time and opportunity to think the situation over and get rid of the nagging annoyance he felt. He knew of course that he was instructed not to argue with potentially aggressive or even dangerous people. Especially after they had some negative encounters with homophobic assholes over the past years who only visited the store to cause trouble. But that had been in a time when he was still under the impression that Negan was very much invincible and some kind of an immortal creature. Now he had learned the hard way that it wasn't true and surely wouldn't call him into the store to solve any threatening situation. Maybe he could have called the police instead, but experience had shown that the good cops of Atlanta rather finished their donut and cup of coffee before they came to the rescue of some gay vendors in the kinky leather business. All in all he acknowledged that he had acted against the rules. And for some odd reason he was okay with the stupid little punishment he had received. It calmed him down and it was kind of nice to unpack boxes and sort shelves in an empty store while Negan got some work done at the counter. Really nice. Particularly when he accidentally dropped a bag of metal cock rings and Negan's head shot up with a concerned look and an 'All good back there?'. Listening to three business calls was great, too. Or being asked whether he had washed his hands after he had been to the toilet. 

He definitely had worse workdays. 

At 10:47 Negan vanished in the staffroom, came back with a bundle of invoices and an apple, sat with one buttcheek on the edge of the counter to eat one and study the other.. and after three minutes blindly gestured for his employee to come over. "Sst. Come here for a sec."

Rick put a 12 pack of DUREX extra thin condoms down and totally unnecessarily wiped his hands on his pants as he walked over. "What."

Negan ignored the slightly hostile tone and pointed with the apple at the documents he was holding. "Was that the same month?"

Rick leaned closer, reading. "No. April and May." He had to admit his boss smelled kind of pleasant.

"Hm." Negan nodded and took a bite of his apple, his eyes never leaving the invoice. "Then tell Glenn I want a monthly settlement from now on for everything." He held the apple out with the exact same side he had just taken a big bite out. "Here. No nibbling."

Rick froze over the paper and a hot flash instantly made his cheeks blush while several snarky remarks crawled to the tip of his tongue. He wasn't hungry and even if, he surely wouldn't want to eat an apple. But oddly enough, not one word left his mouth, he just bent down a bit more, slowly opened his tense lips and grudgingly accepted the offer, not daring to look up as he chewed the most amazing piece of fruit ever having touched his blessed tongue.

Negan didn't comment on any of it, just took another bite himself and flipped the page over to evaluate the next numbers. "You may go back to work. Thanks for the help."

Mister Grimes didn't move for a second or two, just wrinkled his nose while a different kind of warmth put more color on his cheeks. "Hm." He went back to the DUREX display and seven more boxes he had to unpack, kind of wishing it all would be a little bit closer to the check-out. 

'Soft sensitive', 'Anal lover', 'Pleasure fruit', and 'Real feel' were all put on the shelf. The kind with extra lube didn't match the dispatch note, though, so Rick closed the box again and went to the next, sliding the blade of the box cutter out. He positioned it at the far end of the tape and slid it down towards himself.

"Ksst!"

He glanced up.

"That's not how you wanna use the fucking knife. Angle it away from your body when you cut."

He sat back on his heels, scowling. "It's my cutter. I'm using it like that for years."

"Mhm." Negan read through a strange order for blindfolds out of the '50 Shades of Grey' series. "And now you use it as you're told." 

Rick gave an angry snort and muttered something as he went back to work, cutting the box from left to right now, while a mild tingling sensation fluttered through his lower abdomen... that he tried to ignore for a good amount of time until a few minutes later a tall man approached him and reached down to tickle the back of his neck. 

"Nice job. I like the way you displayed it."

Rick froze, not daring to move. "I just stowed it away."

"You did well." Negan patted his employee's feverish cheek, effectively pulling him against his leg for a moment. "It's almost lunchtime. Daryl did a great job serving me this morning. You may go and pick a reward. Wanna surprise him."

"Why." Rick ground his teeth. "He's your boyfriend, not mine."

Negan ignored the gruff attitude and nodded to the left while playing with one of the curls at the back of Rick's head. "Chop, chop. He likes the pet play section." He had to wait more than a minute before the newest sub in his household actually rose to his feet and reluctantly walked off, grumbling a complaint almost too low for anyone to hear. Then he had to wait another 4 minutes before he came back and impolitely thrust a tub of 'Male Cobeco Extra-thick lube' into his hand. Negan read the label, nodding. "Good choice. I like that you picked something I'll have fun with, too."

Rick squinted because that was exactly why he had picked it. "I picked it because he's apparently addicted to your dick."

"Mhm." The derogatory remark made Negan lean in close to speak right next to a glowing ear. "I do not appreciate when I am lied to or when somebody tries to badmouth my partner. You can either work out a really good apology and send it to me before I finished my fucking lunch, or you won't get the pleasure of deposing his kennel water today. Your choice." He kissed a warm temple. "Now go enjoy a nice meal with your men."

Rick's eyes flickered from left to right while he listened to that deep, comforting voice scolding him in the nicest way possible, and then he actually nodded and walked off in a kind of daze, because the brief touch of lips and scruff on his skin still made his heart tumble in excitement. He left the store through the back entrance, took a detour through the warehouse, and went up 3 of 22 stairs before he stopped and got his phone out, typing a message with slightly sweaty fingers and searing heat pulsing in his stomach. "Sorry. I know you prefer the thick stuff." It wasn't what he truly wanted to write but he sent it anyway and went the remaining 19 steps up, and waited 31 seconds on the doormat until his phone beeped with an answer, making his stomach clench. 

**_Negan_ **

_'That's better. See you at nap time.'_


	7. Dropping the keys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, posting on behalf of the author.

It was just a two days business trip to Philadelphia but still Daryl was in a very foul mood since he had to stay behind in a house without Negan but with a miles-long list of chores just to keep him busy. 

Deep cleaning the stairwell was one of them and he wanted to start right after breakfast to get it over with. But as he pushed the red door open with his shoulder, spilling a bit of soapy water from his bucket, he stopped perplexed, for a moment not sure what to do. Somebody sat on the bottom stairs. A little girl in a pink unicorn shirt, knees up, head propped in both hands. Daryl had seen her before. She belonged to the Grimes/Walsh household but he wasn't exactly sure who her actual father was.

She looked up, wiggling her nose once at the man with the mop. "I'm three now."

Daryl had no idea what to do with the information or whether he should start cleaning around the unforeseen obstacle. "Hm." He grumbled a vague recognition, put his bucket down and dipped the mop in. The little girl got up and approached him, standing far too close for his liking as she stretched out an arm and held three fingers up. He nodded, grimacing a bit because he felt really uncomfortable.   
Apparently that was enough for Judith Grimes, because she changed the subject. "My daddy is at the post office." The word 'postoffice' was spelled a bit unconventionally and when she didn't receive any attention, she pulled the mop-person's baggy shirt. "Where is your daddy?"

Daryl grumbled a rough 'Philly' before realizing that the child had maybe meant a different kind of family relation.

She accepted the answer though and in addition seemed to understand the hardship that came with it because she sighed in frustration with a big shrug, throwing her arms in the air. "Oh man."

Maybe she wasn't so bad after all and Daryl honored it with a 'Hm' in a slightly softer tone.

"Oh thank god!" A sweaty, short-of-breath Jesus, flung the door open, putting a hand on his chest in relief when he found the person he was looking for. "There you are. Boy, you're good at hiding!"

Judith was already over it and turned around to clumsily walk upstairs, chattering along. "I had a kitty but mummy is allergic." The pronunciation of 'allergic' sounded a little creative and the K in kitty came out as a T, but Jesus got the message anyway, jogging after her.   
"Oh, okay? Guess we're done with hide and seek." 

Daryl soundly sniffed his nose, looking after them until they had vanished behind the newest brown door of the building, then dipped the mop back into the water, continuing with his chore.

\----

Lunch had been at Negan's apartment with Olivia as the only other person at the table. After that, Daryl felt down and a little upset because nobody walked him downstairs to the kennel. Instead the phone rang. It wasn't a normal call, though. It was the kind that always made his stomach flip unpleasantly because it came via Whatsapp. He carried his ringing phone aimlessly around for a moment and finally sat down on the ground in front of the big black leather couch, exhaling in a really stressed-out fashion before he tapped the right button. A very handsome face appeared that made him smile for a second before he discovered the little frame in the right bottom corner where he could see himself. He looked horrible.

'Damn!' Negan seemed to have a different opinion. 'Look at you being so fuckin' pretty in the middle of the day!'

Daryl sniffed his nose, pulling both of his knees close to his chest. "Hello." His ugly voice matched his appearance perfectly. 

Negan walked through the hotel room and flopped down in a heavy armchair by the window, sighing soundly as he always did when he realized that his body wasn't 20 anymore. 'Have you been good for me all morning?'

"Mh." Daryl nodded after a moment of consideration. "Yes."

'Finished lunch?'

"Mh." He glanced at the table, then back at the phone display. Negan looked really pretty.

'What did you have?'

He exhaled, scratching the side of his head. "Rice 'n curry."

Negan nodded, pursing his lips. 'Sounds great.'

Daryl shifted on his butt, pointing half a finger at the display. "'n you?"

'What did I have for lunch? Nothing yet. Just arrived and had an interview right away.' Negan adored the genuinely worried expression he got.

"You can eat now."

'In a bit.' He paused, drawing his lips in as he gave his sub a long look. 'I miss takin' you to the kennel.'

Daryl nodded instantly, so glad that he wasn't the only one who missed their little mid-day ritual.

'You wanna go by yourself or with Paul?'

"No." His answer didn't sound very friendly but he really didn't want to go there without Negan.

'No? Wanna nap in my bed?' 

"Mh." The corners of Daryl's mouth dropped along with his head. 

'Ksst.' Negan waited patiently until boy number one lifted his eyes again to look at him. 'Rick went to the playground with the kid. Shane is downstairs with Paul. You wanna go visit them.' 

It hadn't been a question but Daryl gave half a nod anyway. Being near Shane was the next best thing when the real deal wasn't around. He sniffed his nose, looking at the ugly small frame where he saw himself and mumbled a gruff question. "Do you start now." It sounded really impolite but it felt good to mention it.

Negan answered casually, 'Does the demo start soon? No. It's in the evening.' but hated the hurt expression in blue eyes. 'You wanna know what kind of demo it is?' 

The answer was spat angrily at him. "With your fist!"

He stayed perfectly calm anyway, just slipped his voice into a more serious tone. 'You wanna watch your tone when you talk to me.' He arched a brow, 'Right?' 

"Hm." Daryl chewed the inside of his lip, trying his best to avoid his eyes.

'Thank you.' Negan paused. 'The demo is about sensory deprivation. You know what that is?'

Daryl nodded but quickly changed it into a shake of the head because he didn't want to be a liar.

'You wanna tell me the five senses.' Negan held up a hand with all fingers stretched out.

Immediately a picture of Ms. Greene in the classroom and a colorful chart attached to the chalkboard appeared in front of Daryl's eyes. He was sure he knew the right answer but still he hesitated to say it out loud. And when he finally did say the first word it sounded gruff and annoyed. "Nose."

Negan nodded, 'Smell.' and put one finger down. 'What else.'

Daryl was glad that he hadn't made a fool out of himself and pointed at his eye. "Seein'."

'Sight. Good job.' Another finger was folded down.

Daryl pointed at his ear and mouth, watching as all fingers went down except for one.

'Hearing and taste. What's the last one.'

He exhaled, holding a hand up. "Touchin'."

'Nice.' Negan lifted a bit out of his seat, pulled a single raisin out of his pocket, wagged his brows with a smirk and popped it into his mouth. 'I'll keep it in there until you come and get it.' He loved the chuckle he got in return and used the light mood to explain the tricky part of tonight's entertainment. 'Tonight I'll demonstrate how to deprive somebody of all five senses and how to use it in a scene.' 

Daryl listened, thought about it, scratched his shoulder and asked a question that sounded really curious. "How?"

'How will I deprive the sub of his senses? I will use a blindfold, earphones, a gag, noseplug, maybe a mask, tape. Will see.'

"Hm." Daryl tried to picture it. It didn't sound very difficult or explicitly sexual. "I can be your helper." Instead of silly Brandon and his stupid pretty face.

'You could. But I know you wouldn't like it.'

An immediate scowl manifested on Daryl's features. "I like it!"

The left corner of Negan's mouth tipped up. 'We will talk about it when I'm back. Now you wanna wish me a nice nap because old Negan is fuckin' tired.' He held the phone in the other direction to show his untouched hotel bed. 'Won't be any good without my grumpy pup suckling my manly tits but what can you do, right.'

Daryl fought for some courage and after a moment brought a fingertip to his mouth, licked it and then touched the phone display with it, leaving a wet smudge.

It made Negan's eyes shine and his voice a bit husky. 'Look at my boy being so fucking good.'

Daryl smiled, feeling very happy and really lonely at the same time.

'Go downstairs and hang out with the guys for a while. I'll call tonight to tell you goodnight.'

"Hm." Daryl nodded, touching the display once more, not wanting the call to end. But the handsome face only winked at him and then disappeared. It made his stomach hurt and he heard his ugly voice say a silly 'sleep well' even though nobody could hear him. He really hated business trips and all the stupid Brandons in the whole wide world.

\----

It smelled like coffee and cooked food in Rick's apartment, not like leather, musky cologne and clean hardwood floors. But that was okay, Daryl liked it anyway. The rules here were different, too. He liked that as well. Nobody expected him to be overly submissive since that was reserved for Negan only. But he could be if he wanted to and sometimes he did, slid off the couch cushion down to the floor to kneel there for a while, or serve Shane a glass of water.

Today he had done both already and was glad that his need for subservience was taken seriously when Shane claimed the spot behind him on the couch and tickled the back of his collared neck. 

"What are you watching?"

Daryl held an iPad in both hands and didn't answer, because Jesus beat him to it.

"A guy in Alaska. He went there for vacation and decided to stay forever."

"Christ." Shane leaned forward, squinting at the screen. "Did he at least bring his wife?"

"Nope." Jesus popped a grape into his mouth. "The mountains, the lake, and some friendly neighbor bears are his only companions."

Shane snorted and shook his head, watching the man in the documentary step out of his log cabin to start a Briggs & Stratton p2200 power smart inverter generator. "Man, kudos to him." He leaned back comfortably, taking a sip from his water bottle. "His balls must be bluer than that lake." 

Daryl didn't comment. He didn't even really listen. The Alaska-man was tall, with dark hair and greyish scruff, reminding him somehow of the person he missed so much. And that, in turn, reminded him of silly Brandon and Miss Greene's 5-senses chart. He sniffed his nose, tugged his earlobe twice and then turned to Paul to make a gruff statement. "The demo is with blindfolds 'n earplugs." Or maybe it had been noseplugs, he wasn't exactly sure.

"Really?" Paul ate two grapes at once, "Lucky Brandon. Daddy is great with sensory play." and almost choked on one of them when he was pushed hard and had to laugh even harder. "Ou! Hey!"

"Daryl." Shane put a firm hand on top of Daryl's head, "Don't." and after a moment loosened his touch, ruffling his hair. 

"Sorry. I didn't mean it like that." Jesus snuggled up to Daryl's shoulder, kissing his cheek. "Have you tried it?"

Daryl shrugged, then shook his head wanting to say that he didn't give a shit about it anyway but then he didn't.

"I could show you?" Jesus shrugged as well. "One of my dads has a cool leather mask in the-"

Shane laughed, patting his boyfriend's cheek from behind. "Yeah sure, keep dreaming Master Rovia."

"For your information, Sir-" Paul felt slightly offended, glancing back over his shoulder. "I would make a great Dom. I just chose to dwell on the subservient side of life."

The comment made Daryl chuckle before he tipped his head back because firm fingers played with his hair.

"I think Daryl disagrees."

Paul leaned closer and rested his chin on Shane's knee. "Maybe. But your partner wouldn't." He smirked, wagging a brow.

Shane, huffed a laugh, raising his water bottle before he took a sip, "Touché."

Daryl couldn't follow any longer and nudged Paul's arm. "You like it?"

"I do! It's pretty exciting."

Daryl sniffed his nose. "He said I won' like it."

Shane decided to interfere. "He's probably right, man. It's a bit of a mindfuck. Really not for everyone." 

Daryl scowled, jerking his head to the left because he didn't want to be touched any longer. "I can do it."

Shane patted Daryl's shoulder as he got up from the sofa. "You better discuss it with the chief when he 's back. He knows more about it." He gestured towards the door. "'going to the shop for a while. Could use some help with the Lincoln."

Daryl watched for 12 more minutes what the man in Alaska did and followed Shane to the garage in minute 13 because he liked tinkering on the old car and he more than liked that Negan was the chief of everyone.

\----

Olivia made the most delicious grilled tofu-lettuce-tomato sandwich for dinner and an 'I know you are sad' dairy-free surprise chocolate pudding for dessert in her own humble attempt to cheer Daryl up. 

It worked.

Almost as well as the Jurassic Park movie night with Shane, Jesus, Rick, and Carl, while the little Judith-girl slept on a pillow beneath the kitchen table because she pretended to be a cat. 

After the movie, Paul was allowed to go upstairs with Daryl to spend the night. They reported on the sofa, played with Tiger for a while, found Olivia's new secret cookie stash, took a shower, brushed their teeth, and even dried the wet floor and sink before claiming the biggest and most comfortable bed the leather factory had to offer. ...right before the phone rang.

"Good evening, Sir!" Jesus wiped a strand of wet hair behind his ear, smiling sympathetically at the phone display. "You look tired. Long day?"

"Yeah, I guess." Negan rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger, then blinked twice, focussing on the screen. "Are you ready for bed?"

Daryl nodded, pushing Jesus a bit to the left so Negan would see that he was there as well. "Yes."

"Very nice." Negan's features lightened up to some extent. "Thanks for the report. Looks like you've been super good today."

"Well..." Paul studied his fingernails, pursing his lips. "I'm not saying some of your boys here deserve an extra reward, but in case you stumble over a pair of new headphones in midnight blue, I wouldn't particularly mind."

Negan gave boy number two an eyebrow arched in slight annoyance, "Do I look like fuckin' Santa Clause?" and then suppressed a smile because Daryl first glanced at Jesus and then genuinely shook his head at the phone display. "No? Am I a hot fucker?"

"Hm." Daryl sniffed his nose once before furrowing his brows when somebody knocked. Not at the apartment door or the bedroom, but in the phone where Negan was.

"Hold on."

The view changed from a handsome face to the hotel suite ceiling when the phone was chucked somewhere on the huge bed. There was a rustling, a groan, steps from bare feet on plush carpeting, and the sound of a door being opened, right before a voice could be heard that definitely didn't belong to Negan.

'Hey! Couldn't sleep and thought maybe you're up for a drink at the bar?'

Daryl felt like being punched in the gut, instantly overwhelmed by inferiority and incredible anger.

Jesus on the other hand didn't seem to be affected at all. "Oh Brandon..." He chuckled with a shake of the head, "...you bold clueless ninnypock." then slid a bit deeper in the mountain of comfy pillows to enjoy the show, putting a finger to his lips when Daryl wanted to say something. "Shh...listen... this will be great."

Negan sounded tired and just slightly annoyed to the untrained ear. "Thanks, but I'm tired." 

'Really? I mean we could hang out here for a while if you want. I give a great massage.'

"Alright," Negan groaned holding the young man by the shoulder when he tried to push into the room. "Listen kid, I am tired, kind of in the middle of something here, and definitely not interested."

'In the middle of what?' Brandon tried to glance past Negan's arm. 'Are you hiding someone in the bathroom? I don't mind a threesome.'

"Great." Negan used a bit more force to stop the intruder, crowding him back out of the room. "Then go traipse off and find yourself a nice couple for a group fap." He shut the door, cursed something, and climbed back into bed, grabbing his phone. "Sorry."

Jesus grinned. "You do realize he will probably use a pic of you, right?

"Yeah, well... as I said-" Negan pulled a pillow out behind his head to lie more comfortably. "-I am fucking hot." 

Paul chuckled. 

Daryl didn't.

"Boy." Negan waited patiently for reluctant eye contact through the phone. "I said I'm not interested. He annoyed the hell outta me all evening. I wanna sleep and go the fuck back home."

"Hm." Daryl squeezed and pulled his left thumb, trying to look anywhere but the phone.

"You'll sleep now, too. Then you work on your chores-list until I arrive and the rest of the day you spend time with me, right?"

"Mh." He glanced up with half an eye.

"What do you wanna say."

Daryl grimaced, mumbling a gruff answer. "'m spendin' time with you."

"Or you keep up that rude behavior and I'll lock you in the kennel until you remember your god damn fucking manners."

"Oh man," Jesus seemed disappointed. "That sounds fun! Shame I won't be home!" He turned to Daryl, nudging his arm. "But no going in the sub room without me. I'm the keeper of the butt."

The remark didn't make Daryl smile. "Where will you be."

"It's Aunty Maria's birthday."

"Yeah. One piece of cake and if you drink any old ladys liquor again you sleep on the floor until you're sober."

Jesus smiled, kissing Daryl's shoulder before he hopped off the bed, leaning close to the phone screen. "Don't worry Sir, I've learned my lesson last year." He smooched the screen, "Sleep well, I have to tinkle." and handed the phone to Daryl, running off to the bathroom.

Daryl still didn't look happy, especially when he saw his own image in the right corner and could compare it to the handsome person speaking to him.

"You wanna go with Paul tomorrow?"

He shook his head, clutching the phone a bit tighter.

"No? You wanna be with me and serve me like a good boy?"

He nodded, scratching the right edge of the phone case with his thumbnail. "Next time I help you." There was nothing but silence in return so he glanced up to see whether Negan was still there. He was. Looking serious but not angry.

"You present for me all night. Ass up, chest down. No bullshit with Paul."

The order sent strange tingles through Daryl's body and he wasn't quite sure whether it was a reward or punishment for the comment he had made. But in the end it didn't matter because it felt really nice and all silly Brandon had received was a door shut in his stupid pretty face.

\----

The next day after breakfast, time just wouldn't pass no matter how many extra chores Daryl did. He vacuumed the store's entire salesroom, he cleaned the whole staircase a second time because it was full of mysterious muddy midget-feet shoe prints, he placed a bowl with salty nuts and seeds on Negan's desk as a special snack, he helped Joseph with the waste paper, cleaned the seminar room, the outside jacuzzi on the sundeck, Eugene's office, and he filled the dog bowl in the kennel with fresh water, before Shane called in the early afternoon for him through the staircase, asking him to go to Wholefoods with Rick and the Judith-girl. 

He really didn't want to go but strangely enough, didn't want to disappoint Shane either, so he suffered through 15 minutes of country music in Rick's car and then watched in fascination how Daddy Grimes tried to convince his daughter for another 10 to use the toddler seat of the shopping cart. 

Unsuccessfully.

Judith wanted to walk all by herself through the fresh produce section, jump like a kangaroo along the shelf with the organic canned soups, crawl like a spider underneath a wooden bread display, and play hide and seek in the dairy aisle. 

Daryl didn't care much, just threw the slightly stressed-out Cowboyboots guy a curious glance here and there while filling their child-free cart with the stuff Shane wanted them to buy. 

The list didn't say anything about candy, but they had to stop there anyway when young Miss Grimes threw a major tantrum over a huge container of gumdrops.

"Judith..." Rick sighed, one hand on his hips, the other tiredly rubbing his forehead while his daughter tested her God-given lung volume for the entire store to enjoy. "Stop, or you wait in the car."

Daryl peeled his eyes off the M&M's with the new flavor to watch as a furious little girl in glittery Princess Sofia sweater started to pull three bags of pecans off the shelf to throw them somewhere in protest.

Rick scrunched up his face, tilting his head to the left. "Do I have to count?"

Daryl sniffed his nose, looking from Rick to Judith and then perplexedly up at the very attractive man in leather jacket who unsolicitedly involved himself in the situation.

"Ksst." Negan nudged one of the pecan-bags with the tip of his boot. "Are you planning to buy all of them? Kinda rude."

The kid stopped instantly, seeming somewhat intimidated by the tall man talking to her. "I want gumdrops." It was a rather quiet statement and she pointed half a finger at the box in question.

"Is that so." Negan grabbed it and took his time to read the label before he put it back on the shelf. "It's not edible. Makes you fat and sick." 

Rick intervened. "Why are you telling her that?"

"Because it'll make you sad if she gets her diabetic foot cut off and can't dance at her fuckin' prom." Negan took a bag of almonds and handed it to Judith. "And obviously, I can't allow that."

Rick squinted when a firm hand patted his shoulder. "What are you doing here anyway, I thought you're in Philly."

"I was." Negan picked Judith up to put her into the shopping cart seat, then dropped three bags of date sugar-candied sub reward pecans into the basket. "And now I am here, grabbing a treat for my boys. Isn't that right, sweetheart."

"Hm." Daryl didn't really smile but his whole face lit up when he was finally noticed and long fingers wrapped around the back of his collared neck to pull him closer for a peck on the lips and four words in private.

"You look fucking hot." 

"Hello." He nudged the front of a cool leather jacket with his nose.

"Hi. Are you a good helper for Shane?"

"Mh." Daryl shrugged, pointing at all the things he had put in the cart. "Finished the list."

Negan pursed his lips, "You sure did." and fished a raisin out of his pocket, feeding it to his sub. "Good job."

"I'm a squirrel!" Judith happily held her bag of almonds up for her father to see.

Rick groaned, shaking his head before he pushed the cart towards the checkout.

\----

Everything at the factory was better whenever Negan was at home. Storing away groceries, work at the store, dinner, and especially hanging out at the club's lounge for a drink and lazy chat. Rick was still up at the apartment to spend time with his kids and Jesus was out of town to visit his aunt, but that was okay because Daryl kind of enjoyed having some quality time with Negan and Shane alone. He sat on the floor using the seat of a free leather armchair as a desk substitute to write his report on. With a new pencil. One from Philadelphia that Negan had brought for him from the airport.

"Man, this one's really good. Damn." Shane leaned over to show Negan another photo on his phone display. It was one of a series. A new add campaign Paul modeled for.

"He's a looker for sure." 

Daryl glanced over to Negan, nibbling on his pencil. It was true. Jesus really was a looker and very beautiful as well. He wore his hair open in all the photos and a casual outfit in dark colors. Black skinny jeans in heavy boots. A plaid shirt tied around his slender waist to an Iron Maiden shirt, and a leather jacket that he wore open. Beautiful actually wasn't even the right term. Stunning was better. And incredibly cool. Like some kind of a rockstar.

"Ksst." Negan didn't look up but waved two fingers in his sub's direction. "You wanna finish your report."

Daryl blinked once and shifted on his knees, starting on the next sentence. He really wanted to finish because after that he would be allowed to serve drinks, sit between long legs, and have a bite of Negan's special after dinner snack. Sushi without any fish but with lots of mango, kimchi, avocado, and cucumber. And a soy sauce that was really tasty. 

"How did the demo go?" Shane emptied his glass then put it on his armrest, tracing the rim with one finger.

"As planned." Negan picked up a piece of sushi with his chopsticks and dipped it into the sauce, twice. "Guy was annoying, though."

"A fan?"

"Yep." He took a bite. "Porter fucked up the screening."

Shane huffed a laugh. "Probably one of his buddies. Didn't he run a fan club once?"

"Two." The church of Negan and Manholes Inc. "They had a club magazine and a bus with my fuckin' face on it."

"Christ." Shane winced. "Don't wanna know what they did at night, man." 

Negan's lip curled in slight disgust... before he glanced up when a young man with tousled hair held a crinkled sheet of paper in his direction.

"'m done."

He accepted it, immediately starting to read. "Thanks. You may take your pants off. "

Daryl flicked his head. "Why."

"Why do I ask my boy to take his pants off for me?" Negan clicked his pen, correcting the second 'Bad' on the report. "Because it fucking pleases me to see your beautiful ass up close and-" He read through the list of likes, blindly pointing the ballpen at Shane. "-we decided to give the subs an hour of undies time each night."

Daryl sniffed his nose, pulling one shoulder up. "Paul's not here."

"I know." Negan loved the third like, drawing a smiley face and a heart behind it. "You get a head start." It took a moment until he got a well-considered reply that sounded hostile but wasn't meant that way.

"Can I go to the room."

"You wanna go to the sub room to undress?"

"Hm." Daryl wrapped an arm across his chest, holding on to his left shoulder. 

"Yes. Send me a message if you need help with anything." Negan made his offer in the most casual tone, knowing full well his sub just needed a moment to get comfortable with the idea.

"Okay." Daryl left, came back after two steps to hand his pencil over without being asked to do so, and then went up the metal stairs and out of the club to take his pants off in room 0-21. He switched the lights on, the camera too, glanced at his reflection in the big mirror, tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, and washed his hands for almost two minutes with plenty of soap even though that wasn't part of the task. With a glance up at one of the cameras he sat down to untie his shoes, then took his pants off and folded them neatly. 

Whether he should also take his underwear off he wasn't quite sure. But the voice from the intercom was.

'Just your pants. Put your shoes on and come back. I miss you down here.' 

Daryl looked up at the speaker where the friendly voice was coming from and mumbled a slightly gruff 'Miss you too' because it was the first thing coming to his mind and the truth. Still, he took his time to put his shoes back on, wiped down the padded cover of the tiled vanity even though it had not been used, and coughed three times before he finally switched the lights off and left the factory's sub-room to go back down to the club. 

Negan and Shane sat where they had been before, in the lounge, occupying two of the heavy leather armchairs. They talked about Rick and Paul and the gradual but very significant shift their dynamic went through right now. 

Daryl sniffed his nose and tugged his baggy shirt in an attempt to cover his butt when he slowly approached them. 

"Yeah, he responds well." Negan held a hand out and spread his legs a little but didn't stop the conversation. "But still struggles with the boys around." 

Shane sighed, massaging his forehead. "I know, man... kinda sucks for Paul, too. Have to hold him back quite a bit."

"Maybe you shouldn't. Might help him to find his place." Negan raked four fingers through his sub's hair as soon as he knelt down between his thighs. "Right, boy? Where's Rick's place, tell me."

Daryl was still busy finding the right posture and somehow cover his sparsely clad crotch and therefore just pointed a vague finger at the free space between Shane's legs, because he really didn't want the Cowboybootsguy anywhere near Negan. 

Shane chuckled. 

Negan didn't, but a smile flickered through his eyes as he studied the man kneeling between his knees. "Look at you clever puppy. Thank you for taking your pants off. Fuckin' hot."

Hm." Daryl held his head a bit higher. He was really glad that Negan was back from silly Philadelphia.

"You deserve a special treat. What would you like?" 

Swimming, a raisin, Negan wearing a rubber glove to bed, were all fantastic options immediately popping into Daryl's head but what he ended up saying out loud was what had bugged him for the past 48 hours. "What the slut did." 

The statement sounded a bit rude, making Negan close his eyes for a second and drop his head with a soundless sigh. "Boy."

Shane laughed. "You ran right into the trap, man."

Daryl scowled. "I can do it."

"Mhm." Negan snapped his fingers. "I never fuckin' said you couldn't. I said you would not like it. I also said we will talk about it when I am back." He arched his brows with a pause. "So it's not cool to pick it as a fucking reward when you know full well that I am not comfortable with it. We are partners."

Daryl's stomach clenched with instant guilt. "'m sorry."

Negan watched his sub for a silent moment. "Why do you wanna try it."

"Mh." Daryl shrugged, dropping his gaze as he scratched the skin of his bare thigh. "Sounds easy." It wasn't the full reason but surely the main one. He felt it could be the one thing he could be better at in comparison to all the pretty helper sluts.

"Hh." Negan ran the tip of his tongue along his teeth. "Okay. I'll show you what it's like, later when we go upstairs. But no full scene and you'll respect my limits."

Ugly heat pushed through Daryl's chest. He didn't dare to look up but put a hand on his owner's knee, wanting to say that he really didn't want to violate Negan's limits and that he wanted to do whatever Negan liked and nothing else. He didn't say anything in the end though and just rested his forehead against beautiful grey pants and the comforting bulge underneath, wishing he had picked the raisin as a reward.

"Maybe I'm wrong." Negan combed his fingers through long strands of hair. "Maybe you'll like it."

"Yeah..." Shane got up with a groan to get himself another drink. "You never know. Tried the new funnel gag on Rick and he fricking loved it." He opened two bottles of ice tea and carried them back, handing one over.

Negan snorted as he accepted the bottle. "Imagine that." 

Shane laughed and sat back down, taking a long swig.

Daryl exhaled warm breath against even warmer fabric, then rubbed his nose and mouth along the outline of the cock he felt underneath. It twitched once, making his guts tingle.

"Mhm..." Negan exerted slight pressure, pushing Daryl's head down. "Are you a good boy?" 

Daryl nodded, parting his lips a little. He really was.

"Yeah you are. Can't wait to go upstairs and play, isn't that right..."

He slid an inch closer, intensifying his work. And Negan allowed it for a while, even moved his pelvis along with it, before he fisted a handful of hair to put an abrupt end to it all and pull his sub's head up for eye contact.

"But I said we go later. Now you wanna kneel for me as I taught you and keep us company." Negan released him, waving a finger. "Move back a bit so I can see you properly." He watched patiently as his order was carried out, satisfied by the rock hard dick in his boy's very tented underwear and the correspondent expression of embarrassment in blue eyes. "Nice. Look how hard you are for me. You wanna spread your knees real wide and present that pretty dick."

As on cue Daryl felt his penis twitch and leak, soaking his white underwear with precum. It made his cheeks flush and his eyes dart nervously to Shane.

"Are you making a puddle for everyone to see?" Negan took a smaller piece of sushi with his chopsticks, popping it into his mouth. "Good job. You wanna focus on me though." 

Daryl exhaled, shifting on his ankles.

"Don't worry." Shane gestured with his bottle. "The others will join you tomorrow night."

"Are the kids leaving already?" Negan ate another one.

"If Lori actually sticks to the plan for once." Shane sounded slightly frustrated. "Don't bet on it though."

"Surprised she loaded them up here. Thought it's the fucking devil's den of iniquity."

Shane snorted a laugh. "Apparently a bit of gay influence isn't so bad when you're invited to a romantic weekend by your new loverboy."

Negan shook his head, leaning forward to feed a piece of sushi to his sub. "She's so full of shit."

"Yeah." Shane propped his head on his fingertips, leaning heavily into the right armrest. "Told him a million times to cut her down to size, man."

"He tried." Negan fed another one, then nudged Daryl's knees wider apart. "Not his fault."

"Nah, I know. Just hard to watch sometimes."

"True." He locked eyes with Daryl, fed a third one as he shoved the tip of his boot between nicely spread legs, making contact with a full ballsack. "But we do our best to make him feel welcome here, isn't that right sweetheart."

"Hm." Daryl chewed with full cheeks, keeping his posture perfectly straight.

"Mhm. What's making Rick happy since he lives here?"

He stopped chewing, thinking for a moment, then swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. "Cleanin'."

"He does clean a lot for me. What else makes him happy?"

Daryl sniffed his nose, pointing a finger at Negan's chest. "You."

"You think?" Negan leaned comfortably back into his chair. "I think it's the rank order in my household."

Shane chuckled, sipping his ice tea. "Oh yeah, he loves it."

Daryl lifted a shoulder to rub his ear against, glancing from Shane to his owner. "You're the boss."

"I am. Who else is in charge here?"

His eyes flickered back to Shane before he pointed at him.

"Yeah. He's in charge of the subs, too, right? Who's next. Tell me."

"Jesus." It sounded more like a question but Negan let it count.

"Mhm. Paul works his way up right now because the dynamic in his relationship is changing." He nudged his sub's balls with his boot. "What's your place in my house?"

"'m yours."

"You are mine. You're also a good boy listening to the men in charge, right? Makes me real proud."

"Mh." Daryl wiggled a bit on the nice leather boot touching his private parts, then squeezed his penis because he felt really excited.

Negan smiled. "You bet your ass it does. But you can't touch yourself. Hands off." He waited a moment and enjoyed the new blush on his boy's face. "Better. Where's Rick's place in the rank order?"

"Sub." It was a softly spoken answer because Daryl wasn't exactly sure.

"Mhm, who's above him?"

He looked from Shane to Negan. "You."

"We are. What about Paul?"

Daryl nodded.

"He is in a way, good job. What about my puppy?"

He didn't want to say it out loud but he knew he ranked above the Cowboybootsguy, even though he had no interest to dish out any orders. It just felt like he was higher up and that Rick naturally enjoyed being at the very bottom of things. So he just held a hand up to indicate that he would rank himself higher.

Shane seemed to be impressed. "Nice, man. Got it all figured out."

"Mhm." Negan pulled his foot back and spread his legs, beckoning his boy closer with one finger. "Here. Fuckin' smart boy, should I take you upstairs now?" 

Daryl was able to give a short nod before he was grabbed and pulled in for a kiss with demanding tongue and a firm hand squeezing his butt. It made him groan and claw five fingers into his owner's shirt.

"Yeah, I should." Negan pulled back just enough to lick his sub's bottom lip. "Fuckin' puppy."

\----

Daryl really didn't feel anxious in the prospect of the new form of play he was about to be introduced to. A bit nervous maybe. It made his stomach flutter standing naked in the middle of the room, with the lights dimmed, watching Negan prepare. Lube, a silicone bit gag, a phone, a bunch of keys, a single black latex glove, a piece of blue bondage rope, a red scarf, headphones, scissors, and a bottle of water. He wanted to ask what certain items were meant for and what would happen, but he had been instructed to be quiet unless he would be spoken to. So he complied and just exhaled a shaky breath when Negan vanished in the bedroom and came back out two minutes later with bare feet and bare chest, a riding crop in hand. The tool was placed to the other things on the coffee table, Negan took a sip of water from the bottle, and then approached his sub, stopping right in front of him in a firm stance, shoulders square, locking eyes with a serious expression.

"Tell me what you have to do." 

Daryl tried to sound confident and failed miserably. "Close my eyes."

"No. You focus on me at all times and use your signal instantly if you feel uncomfortable."

"Mh." He pressed his lips in a tight line, nodding once, then held his fist up with the little finger spread out.

Negan nodded as well. "That's right. But you get a different signal today." He went to get the keys and held them up for his sub to see. "You'll hold them in your hand and if you need to stop you drop them." He did exactly that, creating a clattering sound as the keys made contact with a spotless hardwood floor.

"Okay." Daryl wanted to ask why it was different today but then didn't because he didn't want to question Negan's decisions.

"Good." Negan picked the keys up and handed them over. "You are thirsty, you drop them. You have to piss, you drop them. You are uncomfortable, in pain, scared. You drop them. You wanna stop because you rather wanna go to bed? You fuckin' drop the damn keys."

"Hm. Yes." Daryl touched two fingers to a bare chest. "'n for your limits." He would.

"If I reach my fucking limits I will tell you and stop." Negan smirked, wagging his brows once. "Right?" He stepped another inch closer, blindly taking both of Daryl's hands to put them behind his back, "You wanna keep them there." then leaned in for a kiss on the lips. A soft one with eyes closed and a nose rub in the end before he made a step back and gestured from left to right. "Look around please. Where are we?"

Daryl sniffed his nose, looking around as he was told. "Your factory."

The smirk made a return on Negan's face. "Yep. In my private apartment. Who's here with us?"

It sounded like a trick question so Daryl answered a bit warily. "Tiger."

"He is. And he is the only one. The door is locked. Nobody will come to visit us now. It's just the two of us and Tiger. You wanna remember that." Negan held eye contact a moment longer, then went to get the red scarf, folded it correctly and covered Daryl's eyes with it, securing it with a tight knot at the back of his head. "How's that?"

Daryl closed his eyes, then opened them, blinking twice. It wasn't pitch black but dark and the blindfold sat so tight around his head that he could feel his lashes touch the fabric. He could smell it, too. Leather and cologne. "Good." It really was. He could even see a tiny bit of very dim light when he peered down. But he didn't want to cheat.

"Yeah? Can you still see me?"

His head shot up and a hand instantly reached up to touch the scarf when the wonderful deep voice he loved so much suddenly sounded like it was a million miles away, or at least at the other end of the apartment. Maybe in the kitchen. He glanced back over his shoulder, feeling a bit angry that he was tricked.

"Ksst. No." Negan took the rope from the table and decided to walk an extra round through the living room along the row of high windows. "Hands behind your back. Stay put."

Daryl's heartbeat sped up. Now the voice came from the windows. He turned his head and didn't really know why he chuckled because it wasn't very funny.

Negan waited and watched from a distance, not saying anything for a while. When he finally went closer, he made sure to clear his throat once, pleased when his sub turned to face him. 

The corner of Daryl's mouth tipped up with another weird chuckle and his hand reached out all by itself to find the man he sensed in front of him.

Negan allowed the clumsy fingers on his chest for a moment. "Good boy, did you find me?"

"Hm." Daryl fanned his fingers out, slid them through coarse chest hair, and had a very clear picture in front of his eyes what it looked like. Black on tanned skin, a tattoo on the left. He missed seeing it. And almost dropped the key he held in the other hand when a silky dark voice spoke to him and warm breath caressed the side of his face. 

"You're not supposed to use your hands, though... naughty puppy." Negan leaned in close, enjoying the scent of his sub's hair and skin, nipped his ear, and then went to stand behind him. Close, making the young man visibly tremble when he gently stroked some long strands of hair out of the way to kiss and caress a beautifully collared neck from behind. "Fuckin' gorgeous from every angle." He went even closer, making his chest touch a slightly cool back, put a hand flat on his sub's stomach, and exerted slight pressure when he moved his middle against bare buttocks. "Making me hard already."

Daryl heard his own breath coming fast and loud, in sync with his rapid heartbeat. Feeling Negan's bulge rubbing against his ass made his own dick twitch and he wanted to ask whether they could fuck now and maybe go to the big bed where he could go on all fours and offer himself. But then his neck was kissed again and the wonderful bulge disappeared. Instead his wrists were taken and moved side by side behind his back. Rope was wrapped around them, slowly, tying them together. It wasn't the first time and usually he didn't mind much. It just meant Negan was in a playful mood and would fuck or fist him extra good. It was kind of different now, though. He couldn't see and felt really nervous as soon as the last knot was done and he realized that he wouldn't be able to pull the blindfold down by himself anymore. It made his stomach tumble in unease before the wonderful dark silky voice was back to breathe comforting words into his ear.

"What's that? Did I secure those naughty puppy paws behind your back?"

He shifted on his feet, tipping his head to the left to rub the side of his face against his owner's neatly trimmed facial hair. "Yes."

"Mhm. No sight, no touch." Negan inhaled deeply as he buried his nose into all the chaos of his sub's hair, nipped the side of his collared neck, and then stepped back, breaking any physical contact. "You want more?"

Just for a moment Daryl felt dizzy and not in a good way. He felt cold too and instantly longed for the tall, solid body usually giving him comfort. He nodded anyway. Kind of. Because he was determined to go through with this play he had requested as reward, still sure he could be better than silly Brandon and all the other sluts.

"Yeah?" Negan picked up his phone, read a message, then opened his music files and switched through the different albums. "Where are my keys? You're still holding them?"

"Yes." Daryl did and jingled them a bit.

"Nice." Negan selected nature sounds, heavy rain at night, activated the headphones via Bluetooth, checked the volume, and put both back down on the coffee table, picking up the gag instead. "You wanna drop them?" He went back, this time from the other side, watching as Daryl turned his head from left to right, anxiously searching for the source of voice. "I could take you to bed and make love to you until you're too tired to keep your pretty eyes open." 

Daryl exhaled and flicked his head, then shook it. "'can hold them longer." He really could. Even though his skin felt like a colony of ants would crawl all over his body.

"Mhm." Negan closed the distance, coming so near their noses almost touched. "Should I gag your pretty mouth?"

"Mh." Daryl lifted his shoulder, feeling a thousand percent better now that Negan was back. "You can." He liked the gag a lot.

"Yeah, you love drooling for me, isn't that right..." Negan brushed his nose over a blushed cheek, then dipped the tip of his flaccid tongue between pale pink lips for a taste. "You wanna kiss me before?"

Daryl whimpered and gave a small nod. He really wanted to and wavered a bit when he tried to make himself bigger, glad when two strong hands came to steady him, holding his hip and cupping the side of his face. He exhaled again when he found scruff against his lips and then another mouth, warm and smooth. He gave it a kiss. Two more. Enjoyed the feeling of their lips simply resting against each other to share a couple of breaths... before Negan took over and made his insides flip with a real kiss, so deep and powerful it made his heart and throat clench. It tasted amazing and made him completely weightless and melt against this intoxicating body that was the absolute center of his universe right now. It was a long kiss, leaving him breathless and the soft order 'Open' was carried out almost in trance. He loved the feeling of the familiar silicone piece between his teeth and the tight straps being fastened around his head. 

Negan growled in delight. "Fuckin' look at you... wanna bend you over the table and fuck you until my dick breaks off."

Daryl nudged the gag with his tongue, wanting to say 'You can' but all that came out was a gruff noise that sounded nothing alike.

Negan understood it anyway and spoke into a glowing ear. "Maybe next time." He gave the artificially parted lips a broad lick and vanished to stand a while on the sidelines and enjoy the view. 

With any other sub he would have done something unsettling now, like pretending to leave, watch a random football game on tv, or make a business phonecall like nobody else was in the room, to trigger a sense of fear, helplessness, and isolation. 

It was different with Daryl, though. It was his first time and true fear surely wasn't an element Negan wanted in play with this boy. With his boy. He just wanted him to have a taste of what messing with senses could be like and then provide him with hours of aftercare for the rest of the night. 

But still, a little irritation and discomfiture was part of the experience, so he walked around a bit, moved a chair on the wooden floor, opened the bedroom door and closed it, ran the water in the kitchen, kept completely quiet for exactly 120 seconds and then drank a sip of water and sighed as he put the bottle down.

Daryl flinched, hearing something clank to his right. He really didn't like this part of the new play much. Not being able to see was scary. It made him feel disoriented. He wasn't sure anymore which way the dining table was and where the kitchen. And some of the footsteps didn't sound like Negan's at all. He thought maybe Shane or Rick had been at the door. Or Simon? It was hard to tell and for just a tiny moment he considered to drop the keys because he felt like he would develop an upset stomach and Negan hadn't spoken to him for an hour by now, at least that was what it felt like. He could still hear him though. Clearing his throat and fumbling with something that sounded like the remote control on the coffee table. He could also hear the very faint sound of his own spit trickling to the floor. He knew Negan liked when that happened and the thought of the proud look he would get made his penis swell a bit more and twitch in excitement.

"Look at that...drooling like a broken faucet." Negan stood near the coffee table, his favorite riding crop tucked under one arm while he put a black latex glove on his right hand, soundly snapping it against his wrist. "Are you so good for me?"

Hearing Negan's voice came as such a relief that Daryl's head dropped with a little whimper and he turned in the direction where it was coming from, making two steps.

"No. You wanna stay put." Negan went closer but still kept a bit of distance, just using the tip of the riding crop to touch his sub's shoulder. "Did you miss me?"

Daryl flinched, held his breath... and then warily nodded when he recognized the object slowly brushing down his side. 

"Good boy..." Negan praised in low tone, running the leather tip over Daryl's bare thigh. "Is that my crop? Feels so nice, right..." 

Daryl exhaled around the mouthpiece of his gag, grunting when all of sudden his penis was touched. Not by hand but with the crop and very light. He sucked his stomach in and shifted on his feet, then made a step backward when his balls were tapped with the leathery tip. His breathing increased and he heard himself wheeze, wishing he could see what was going on.

The idea of snapping a picture or ten briefly came to Negan's mind as he took in the delightful image of his gagged, blindfolded sub, hands bound behind his back, chin and chest glistening with a stream of fresh saliva, dick rock hard and twitching. An obscene curse rolled off his lips when a thick drop of precum bubbled out of a pretty pink slit. "Nice work... making such tasty treats for me." He put a supporting hand on Daryl's hip and leaned down to gently suck the fluid off, earning a sweet wailing noise followed by rapid, shallow breathing. He purred, gave the glistening cockhead a broad lick and stood up straight again. 

A desperate sound pushed out of Daryl's throat, overwhelmed by all the sensations and fear the lifeline to his owner would be cut again in all this weird darkness. He turned to the left, trying to find a broad chest, familiar smell, warm skin, or at least comforting words. Anything. And he found it all at once in such an intensity that his heart skipped a beat. His nose bumped into a solid shoulder and the male scent of warm skin mixed with a rich, heady cologne. And it all stayed there like a rock, giving the opportunity to hide and recharge. He turned a bit more and made a small step forward, standing flush with his owner, chest to chest, pressing his face into everything safe. 

"Good boy..." Negan kissed his sub's temple. "Are you trying to hug me but your hands are all tied up?"

The question sounded kind of teasing but the voice did not. It was sympathetic and very comforting, deep and soft as it always was when it said the most wonderful words, so Daryl closed his eyes underneath his blindfold and nodded once. And he was glad that he had done it because right in the next moment two strong arms wrapped around him in a slow, all-enfolding embrace, like a cocoon for the scared and helpless. 

"That's so much better, isn't it..." Negan made the hug extra gentle, extra good, extra protective, feeling the man in his arms exhale long and low, go slack, shrink three sizes, and rest heavily against his chest as if he had just finished a three days marathon through the desert without a drop of water. "Yeah it is. Being so good is fuckin' exhausting, right?" He made sure to involve the whole of his body into the embrace, speaking against silky strands of hair. "But you're doing so well. Holding up like a champ for me." 

Daryl meant to nod but wasn't sure whether he actually did. Everything was so warm and secure around him that all the austerities suddenly didn't matter anymore. He didn't have to see or use his hands right now. He didn't even have to think. Everything was good as long as Negan wouldn't leave again.

And it didn't seem as if he planned to do so. On the contrary. He started to kiss the side of Daryl's face, slow and sensual, stroked bare buttocks with a gloved hand, and rhythmically moved his middle, making his arousal known. "Feel that? Is that how fucking hot you are?... tell me."

Of course, Daryl wasn't able to give a real answer but he whimpered and took a deep breath, feeling a hard bulge rubbing up against him. Then he felt the riding crop against his skin when it was threaded into the little space between his bound arms and back so he could kind of hold it. And after that, he could feel the secure arms around him shifting again before the snap of a lube bottle could be heard, the squelching sound of thick fluid squirted onto a rubber glove, right before a satisfied, very deep groan rumbled through Negan's chest when he brought four slick fingers between his sub's asscheeks, sliding them up and down a few times until they remained on the small entrance to circle it and push in, gently stretching the muscle.

Daryl's heartbeat climbed up all through his chest towards his throat, pounding there like a maniac with the incredible sensation of smooth, slick rubber pressing against his hole, demanding admittance. It made him rise up on his toes for a moment, panting, before he lowered down and widened his stance for better access. It made him thirst for more touch and friction, let him bury his entire face into a broad shoulder, trying to lick and kiss somehow despite the barrier between his lips. He wailed a desperate shaky sound against Negan's collarbone when the wonderful fingers pulled back all of sudden, before his vocal cords tried to voice a 'Yes' when the fingers came back, balled up to a fist, pushing against the pulsing muscle in a circular motion, so slick and wet and big it almost made him cum on the spot. His thighs quivered along with his abdominal muscles. He bent in his knees, bobbing up and down twice in hopes the fist would go all the way inside him. He heard himself grunt when he pushed down with real effort and whined in total frustration when it all came to nothing. 

Negan rubbed his knuckles one more time against the wet hole, turning his head to dig his nose into all the goodness of warm skin and soft hair. "Yeah... show me what you like... good boy, you wanna spread your legs for me real wide." He folded two fingers out and pushed them through the muscle, twisted them a couple of times and wrapped an arm firmly around his sub's waist to hold him upright when he started to seriously fuck his fingers in and out of that pulsing hole, hard and fast, making the man in his arm sob miserably. "Are you singing to me so nicely? Such an awesome job, look at you... soaking my fucking pants with all that pretty puppy spunk." 

Daryl squeezed his eyes shut beneath the blindfold, nodding because it was true. He could feel his penis twitch and leak and try its very best to find more friction, humping a firm thigh.

"Fucking beautiful, that's what you are." Negan slowed down and instead started to caress the side of his boy's face with sensual kisses again. "Want a fucking ten-foot oil painting of you looking that motherfucking gorgeous." He massaged Daryl's prostate for a few seconds, nice and slow, twisted his fingers once more and then pulled back. His fingers, his mouth, his entire body. Leaving a helpless creature on trembling legs behind who noticeably had to fight for balance. "Good boy, stay on your feet." He waited a moment to see if Daryl would find his footing and then went to get the headphones, check the connection to the phone and the volume once more before he brought them to his sub, leaning in close just for a second to give a hint of what would happen next. "Hearing. No more noise for puppy. You wanna remember to drop the keys if you want to stop."

It was the last thing Daryl heard out of the real world before he was pushed over the edge into a parallel universe, cut off from anything providing stability. Drumming rain, loud and almost violently penetrating his head. No more footsteps, no more words, no sound to give him direction. The ground beneath his feet was still there but seemed to sway the longer he tried to concentrate on it. The darkness in front of his eyes started to flicker with tiny swirling dots. Red first, then kind of blue, adding to the insidious dizziness he experienced. His head told him he was in the living room in Negan's apartment. It was late evening. Tiger was asleep somewhere on his dog pillow. Negan was close. But the more he thought about it, the more it sounded like a lie. Implausible. Doubtful. There was no touch on his skin and he flinched anyway, not sure whether anything or anyone could come near him. Fingers, a mouth, a crop. A belt. The last thought had him flinch again, take a step back and then to the left before he stopped and froze in place, paralyzed by the unknown danger and total helplessness. Complete surrender was the only option he had left, hiding inside rather than running away without the luxury of sight or hearing. His hands bound. He could feel the keys poking into his sweaty palms and clenched his fingers around them so tight it hurt. He did it again, finding comfort in the sensation, while a thick layer of goosebumps spread all over his bare body and his abandoned hole pulsed in complete emptiness. The fabric covering his eyes still gave off the faint scent of leather and familiar cologne, projecting a handsome face into his mind, friendly and strong, like a guiding light. It made his throat tight and he squeezed the keys once more, remembering the last words he had heard. A few moments ago. Or hours. It was hard to tell, but sent a sense of panic through his system that made his knees weak and let him stumble aimlessly around for a bit, two steps, one more, left or right, he had no clue. The endless sound of raindrops confused him, numbed his mind, made him feel like the only person on the planet. And then like prey in a lions cage, when all of sudden a soft breeze brushed his naked body, before he was touched. He jerked away and huffed around his gag, his heart pounding wildly. He opened his eyes beneath the blindfold, then squeezed them shut and wanted to say something but couldn't, when familiar fingers cupped the side of his face. Lips brushed his cheek without any words or sound. Rough facial hair. More lips. A broad chest, safe and solid against his quivering body. Comforting warmth and scent. Hair gel and aftershave. A strong arm wrapping all around him, pulling him close, holding him, allowing the fear and insecurity to vanish, the unbearable tension to leave. Daryl felt his eyelashes getting wet beneath the blindfold and his throat clench as if he had to cry. All of his face was touched and held by big, smooth palms, soft breath against his nose, cheek and mouth. A kiss followed by many more that wandered down his throat to worship his collar, kiss his neck, his shoulders. He held his breath when large hands stroked down his sides, stopped on his thighs and all the warmth and comfort concentrated on the lower half of his body. Skin touching his cold legs. Lips and beard on his hipbones and thighs. A tongue, soft and silky wet somewhere in between. He wanted to hold on to something and willed his lungs to do their job when heat and wetness enclosed his most private body part, spoiled him with licking and sucking, very gentle teeth nipping his sensitive skin. He panted, finding it hard to coordinate the process of taking air in and expelling it again. Firm hands cupped his buttcheeks, and his mind imploded in utter disbelief as just for a brief moment his rock hard penis got swallowed by a tightness so smooth and hot that he wanted to scream out in pleasure. His throat felt like he did. His hands cramped around the warm pieces of metal he was holding on to for dear life... and then it all stopped in a heartbeat, so sudden it felt like a shock, as if something would block his airways. The warmth was gone, the affection, the comforting presence of his man... leaving him once more in total isolation in the middle of nowhere. And this time it physically hurt. His throat, his chest, his straining dick and full balls, so hard and close to climax it was painful. Everything felt cold, the rain drummed mercilessly into his tortured mind. He wanted to call a name and turned around to make two steps, finding nothing at all. The darkness seemed to come in waves, pushing into him from all sides. He felt his pulse throb everywhere, wetness beneath his bare feet and the very urgent need to curl up and hide. He bent down a bit in an attempt to do so but lost balance instantly and wanted to call the name Negan again, when he noticed something pulling the warm, damp metal keys out of his clenched fingers. He flinched and wanted to kneel so badly it made him cry like the biggest pansy of Atlanta. 

And then, just like that, it was over. 

The keys were gone. His face was taken in two firm hands. He was kissed on the forehead. He was embraced, tight and insistent. There was still no reason for him to see and hear, to move and think, because Negan had taken over and did it all for him. Cradled him safely for a while until he was able to get his ragged breathing under control. Gently pushed his head against a broad shoulder to rest there until the straps of the gag were unbuckled. Then moved it up again to free him from the consistent pelting of raindrops and replace it with low praising words.

"Good boy, wanting to be with me so much..." Negan dropped both the headphones and bit gag without breaking contact, then wiped the excess of spit off his boy's mouth with the cup of his hand. "Am I so fucking proud of you?" He kissed a warm cheek and untied the scarf, slowly taken it off. "Yes, I am. Look at you being so good for me." 

Daryl blinked and shook his head once before he hid his face in the crook of Negan's neck. 

"'Course you are." Negan pulled the riding crop out beneath his boy's bound arms, dropped it to the other things and then blindly started to untie the little bondage he had created earlier. It didn't take long before the rope fell to the ground and ten fingers instantly clawed to his bare chest. He didn't mind in the slightest and tightly embraced everything precious in his possession. "Are you dizzy?"

Daryl shook his head once more, wishing he could crawl into his owner's body. "'didn' drop them."

Negan pulled his arms a bit tighter and firmly widened his stance as he kissed the top of Daryl's head. "I know. I did. Negan gets fuckin' old and reached his limits." The hands clawing to his chest left their position to slowly snake around him for a comforting hug. It brought a smile to his eyes and let him share another peck on his sub's head. "I am also in need of a big long-ass quiet time." He groaned, rubbing Daryl's back. "Wanna join me?"

Daryl nodded while a million little ideas popped to his head how he could make Negan feel better. "We can go to bed." He lifted his head to some extent, glancing up. It was the first time that Negan requested quiet time for himself.

"Good idea." Negan looked down. "How about a midnight snack and some music." 

For the third time that night a little nervous chuckle escaped Daryl's mouth. But this time he knew where it came from, because normally Negan never ate that late or in bed and surely never with music on. He liked it though and shrugged with one shoulder. "Okay."

"Alright." Negan patted his sub's bare ass. "Chop, chop then. No crumbs on my sheets."

\----

At half-past two in the morning the usually very clean bedroom in Negan's private apartment looked a bit cluttered. A couple of glasses, a red cup, a bottle, three bowls with the remains of sweet and salty snacks, an untouched peach on the nightstand. A used washcloth. A bottle of lube. And a lot of pillows on the floor, along with a pair of grey pants and white underwear out of the new Hugo Boss collection. 

In bed, between covers and two more pillows slept two men. Soundly. One half on top of the other, fingers entwined... after relaxed hours of eating, drinking, a slow fuck full of comfort, and an even longer talk, arm in arm. About Merle Dixon, the broken hot tub jet on the sundeck, Olivia's new high protein pancake recipe. About how scary sensory deprivation could feel in reality, especially for traumatized people with separation anxiety. And why Doms sometimes had to stop a scene or play when the sub overestimated their limits. It had been a good talk, ending with a long, lazy kiss to the music still playing on repeat in the background. A cheesy REO Speedwagon song, totally fitting for a perfect quiet time between real partners. 


	8. Rookie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit angsty, mention of child abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not the author, just posting for him in his absence
> 
> Mig is still in the hospital, but doing better. His tumblr is xopeapup. For everyone needing a password or having a private question, his e-mail is someslug@gmx.de

It had been a long ass day. Two meetings, three hours at the store, and almost seven at the office with not a single break in between. Negan was more than done and ready to conclude the day.

"Paul." He didn't even put his pen down as he blindly pushed the button of the intercom. "Are you around?"

Daryl peeked up instantly. He was kneeling on the carpet for three hours by now, working through the book pages Negan had told him to read. And during all this time it had been completely quiet except for the occasional rustle of paper or the sound of fingers typing on the keyboard. Accordingly startled he felt now by the sudden voice breaking the silence.

'I'm at the warehouse.' Paul's voice sounded as friendly and chipper as always. 'Do you need anything, Sir?'

Negan didn't look up from his document, adding another paragraph to the text. "Yes. Take the boy to the sub room and get him ready. I need a good fuck." 

Daryl was so taken aback by the blunt order given so casually and totally out of the blue, that he couldn't help but stare at the tall man still working at the desk.

Jesus on the other hand, didn't seem surprised at all. 'No problem, Sir. I'm there in five.'

Negan pushed the button a third time, again not taking his eyes off the paper. "Thanks." He finished a couple of sentences, added a date and signature, and then put it on the pile Eugene would pick up in the morning. He cleared his throat, stored some pens away, got his charger out of the drawer, shut his laptop, and was up and right next to the door in time when it knocked. "Hi." He opened, offered his cheek for a kiss, and gestured for boy number two to take a seat on the couch. "A moment." His left knee cracked a little as he squatted down in front of Daryl, taking the book out of his hands. "Good job. 23 pages?"

"Hm." Daryl peeked up, nervously pulling his left thumb with the right hand. "Yes."

"Nice." Negan nodded, flipped through some of the pages himself, and then closed the book, looking his boy in the eye. "You wanna go with Paul now and get your pretty hole ready for me?"

"Hm." Daryl didn't dare to blink but nodded once while his stomach flipped as if he had just boarded a roller coaster. "Okay."

Negan arched his brows, grabbing his sub's chin. "What do you wanna say."

Daryl shrunk a bit in size and pressed his thighs together because his penis twitched in excitement. "'wanna go with Paul." He pointed a finger blindly to where Jesus was sitting on the couch.

"Mhm. What will he do for me?"

He sniffed his nose, loving the harsh grip on his chin. "Prepare me."

"That's right. He'll prepare your ass for my dick and delivers a puppyboy ready-to-fuck right on my doorstep, isn't that right?"

Daryl tried to nod. "'s right." 

Negan leaned in very close, lowering his voice into a whisper. "Say it like a real good boy."

"'s right, Sir." Daryl's heart skipped a beat when a wet tongue snaked out to lick his flushed cheek.

"That's better." Negan released his sub and rose back to his feet with a sigh, patting a red cheek. "You may go."

Paul got up as well, wagging a single brow at one of his dads, smirked, and took Daryl by the hand, confidently walking him out of the door. He loved this kinky place he was able to call his home now. 

... and he also loved everything about Daryl Dixon. 

His kindness and innocent nature, the attentiveness and the way he wanted to care for others, the gruff attitude to mask his insecurity. The deep desire to serve. And lately... more often than not, he absolutely adored those legs willingly opening for him in the sub room with just the smallest command. It poked something inside him, tickled a desire that somehow got louder by the day. A strange voice that hadn't been there before, at least not for the most part of his life. 

When it had appeared for the first time, it had been angry. Rebellious. Demanding to speak up against a man who had promised to lead the way but in the end wasn't even capable to find it with the help of a compass, map, and torchlight.

With time going by and events changing, the voice changed as well. It lost its anger and instead got kind of cocky. Adventurous maybe. Testing its effects in certain situations and with different people. 

But now... ever since they had all moved to the factory, since Negan and Shane had taken over and created a new dynamic for everyone... the voice got hard to ignore. It got serious. It wanted to be heard and have an audience. In the car, when Daryl forgot to put the seatbelt on. During a walk, when Tiger didn't listen the first time. Every time Rick entered the room with his emotions all over the place... his inner voice shouted for its chance to speak up and bring order into this beautiful man's life.

And now... here in the little safe haven of room 0-21, his strange new desire pulsed through him like a machine without a control unit. It roared in satisfaction when Daryl went into the required position on top of the tiled vanity. Chest, and head down on the soft padding, knees spread, and ass up for best accessibility. It brought up a curse new to his vocabulary when two hands reached back to spread firm butt cheeks right in front of his face. It made him glance up at the camera in a bit of a conflict, and then he was almost glad when a calm but very clear 'Work.' resounded instantly from the intercom. It made him sigh with a smile and tuck long hair behind his ears before he started. Attaching the hose and nozzle to the huge sink, giving short but friendly instructions as he went through the cleaning process, and then selecting a tub of Elbow Grease and a blue latex glove because he felt more like providing a real good fingerfuck for stretching purposes than the magical tongue work he usually used for the job.

Daryl flinched, grunted, and looked back over his shoulder in irritation when slick rubber fingers started to probe his entrance.

Paul clicked his tongue. "Uh-uh. Head down." It was a softly spoken order and carried out with a bit of reluctance but he won and for the next six and a half minutes watched the most beautiful butthole he had ever seen mold perfectly around his gooey fingers. The muscle relaxed, the skin got pinker, the little squelching noises were heavenly and matched the shallow grunt he earned for hitting a prostate in the very right angle. He knew he did well. The man on the table had started to move with his fingers two minutes ago. And he wondered whether he would maybe be able to get his pants down and replace his gloved fingers with a very demanding dick in time before a furious tall man would start to kick the door in and end his poor existence by snapping his neck.

He decided not to push his luck and rather stopped with a last deep thrust of three fingers and a kiss to the curve of a perfect ass. "You did so well." The friendly praise came with a couple of additional pats on the thigh before he went to select a nice heavy metal plug and the lube Negan preferred. "Push out." He whispered it and took his sweet time to insert the solid toy into the twitching masterpiece he had created.

He applied lube in abundance, squirting it inside the glistening tunnel and all around it, let it run down a pink crack and drip over a full ballsack onto the soft padding of the countertop, then pushed the plug against the hole, loving the slight resistance he felt, the groan, the huff of breath. He pushed it in half, pulled it back, in again, all the way this time, enjoying the muscle gripping the base. He twisted it, pressed it in deeper, and softly scolded Daryl when he glanced back over his shoulder and shifted on his knees. "No... head down." His wish was granted and he twisted the plug again, to the left, to the right, then slowly pulled it back, watching the tight hole popping it out. The man on the table shifted again and whimpered, lifting and raising his butt in distress. "Ssh... don't move." Jesus gave one of the round globes a gentle kiss, applied some more lube and pushed the plug back in. In one swift move, deep and insistent. Seeing how it was almost sucked in on its own after a certain point had him groan and sweat a little. Maybe curse again. It affected his voice, too, making the soft tone huskier. "Come here, sit up." He made half a step back and helped to coordinate the clumsy movements, held Daryl by the arm, pulled him upright, "Come here." and as soon as the man sat on the countertop, facing him... he dragged him as close as he could. Stood between spread thighs, firmly cupped the back of a collared neck, and pulled him in for a kiss. A wet one, urgent and passionate. He hooked one of Daryl's legs over his arm to drag him even closer, started thrusting his hips ...and only felt sudden tension in the other man's body, the same second the intercom rustled.

'Paul. Take him upstairs.'

It wasn't a loud order, didn't sound angry or impatient. It was calm. And the message wasn't repeated.

For a very brief moment, Paul felt annoyed. He broke the kiss anyway, wiped his mouth, and was met by an odd expression out of blue eyes. Almost startled. Confused for sure. He didn't like it and tried to smile it away. "Coming, Sir!" He tucked some hair behind his ear and gave Daryl a shrug, then turned around to pull the used glove off... throwing it next to the trash can on purpose.

"A love-note for one of my dads." He said it with a smirk and helped Daryl down the countertop, grabbed the clothes nobody had use for at the moment and switched the lights off, guiding Negan's naked partner upstairs. 

\----

It was 0:12 when Shane's phone beeped with a message.

**Chief**

_Boy still up and available? Need to talk to him._

He squinted at the bright display, rubbed a palm over his tired face and nudged the man sitting next to him on the couch with a huge bowl of walnuts. "Boy. Negan wants to see you."

"Hm?" Paul had difficulties to peel his eyes off the TV screen. Yul Brynner really was a stud. "Now? The movie is still on."

Shane squinted again, this time in disbelief as he grabbed first the snack bowl and then switched the TV off, flicking the remote on the coffee table. "Go."

Paul smiled, leaning in close to kiss one of his dads on the cheek. "Hope it's on Netflix."

Shane arched his brows with a smirk. "Go!"

"Okay!" Paul crawled off the sofa, slid his rather small feet into Rick's weird old-man slippers, and went upstairs, knocking. 

Negan opened in nothing but grey pajama bottoms, didn't say anything as he vanished in the living room, and snapped his fingers for Tiger to go back on his pillow.

"There's a huge moth outside your door?" Paul pointed in the direction where he had been coming from and was shushed instantly by a finger in front of Negan's lips, before it gestured to the bedroom and its wide-open door where a young man was sleeping with parted lips and tousled hair, passed out across five pillows and crumpled sheets. "Oh." Paul tip-toed the rest of the way and quietly knelt down on the ground, smiling when Negan took a seat on the sofa. "Hello, Sir." He kissed the man's knee. "Did you have a good evening?"

Negan didn't answer the question or return the smile. "I didn't say anything earlier because I don't want to hurt your relationship or make the situation bigger than it might have been." He pointed at the bedroom again. "But he's asleep now. So you have three minutes to explain yourself before I rip your fucking dick off."

The smile on Paul's lips didn't vanish but all of sudden looked kind of crooked, matching the nervous little laugh. "What do you mean? The sub room? We just fooled around a bit, what's the matter? You never have a problem with us having a bit -" He stopped perplexed when a phone was held in front of his nose, showing a sequence of what the video surveillance had recorded a few hours before. It was him kissing Daryl, passionately, dragging him close, hips thrusting, hands roaming. It was hot... except for the fact that Daryl didn't really return the kiss. He was noticeably tense. He had his eyes open and kept glancing up at the camera while one of his hands twitched, not sure if he should show his signal.

Negan switched the phone off, throwing it somewhere next to him on the couch. "Two minutes."

Paul felt oddly betrayed. A bit angry, too. They had kissed a million times and they both had loved it. They were best buddies. Brothers. Why would Daryl all of sudden act as if he got assaulted? He waved a hand, snorting. He had no idea what to say. "Rip my dick off, I guess?"

"I'm not an idiot, boy. I know you love him. I know you don't wanna hurt him. And I know you feel all fuckin' rambunctious since Rick dropped the soap." Negan paused, waiting for reluctant eye contact. "What I don't know is why the motherfucking fuck you would cross the fucking line right in front of my fucking eyes!"

"I don't know what you're talking about! I prepared him and we kissed. We did that a hundred times!"

Negan put two fingers on Paul's cheek to forcefully turn his head towards the bedroom. "Everything you see over there... is mine. And it is mine, because I wanted it all. Not just a piece of fine ass. I took responsibility. I gave him a damn good reason to trust me."

"I know." Paul really did. And he felt like a piece of shit, knowing full well that he had kinda crossed a line. Purposefully, hoping Daryl would want to cross it too. He huffed a breath, dropping his head... then slid closer to a long leg, resting his forehead against it. "I thought he might like it." 

"Like what? Serving that bossy streak you suddenly developed? Taking your dick because you're in search of a willing hole?" Negan knew his words hit home and decided to soothe the terror a bit with a hand combing through long hair. "He wouldn't push you off, he wouldn't tell you no. He wouldn't want to hurt your feelings or fucking disappoint you. He would silently accept what he thinks is expected of him. That's why he needs someone who is able to read between the fucking lines and make responsible decisions in his best interest." 

Paul didn't look up. He huffed a shaky breath and sounded more than rueful as he spoke. "I thought I do."

Negan shook his head and snorted a single laugh that didn't seem amused at all. "Boy... don't insult my fucking intelligence. You didn't think of him, you didn't think at fucking all. You were using his submissiveness for your fucking advantage and that's not how it works. His needs come first at all times." 

Paul shrugged, playing with Negan's bare foot. "You called me in tonight because you needed a fuck."

"I called you in tonight because I needed a fuck?" Negan spread his knees a bit wider, leaning forward to speak directly into boy number two's face, almost nose to nose, keeping his voice low but it adopted a dangerous timbre. "I've had a very busy day. He had lunch without me. I had no time to take him to the kennel. I had promised him a bike ride in the afternoon that didn't happen because I had an unscheduled meeting with the guys from Ox. He spent three hours reading about ocean engineering in front of my fucking desk on his very best behavior until I had finished work. So when I called you in to get him ready, it wasn't for me, it was his reward for being such a supportive partner and my fucking chance to show him how much I had missed him all day!" He shrugged, palms up, "But guess what?" then tapped a finger at Paul's forehead. "Instead we watched one of his fucking dinosaur movies and he fell asleep sucking my god damn nipple because Mister 'I'm the man now' Rovia had to throw in a spontaneous roleplay!" He leaned back into the couch, blatantly pointing at his crotch. "Do I care that I have to go to bed with blue fuckin' balls now?!" He paused, arching his brows at the man by his feet. "No. Because I'm a responsible Dom and he's my sub, not a walking talking piece of ass." He got up with a groan, swung a long leg over his sub, and went to the kitchen. He drank some water to get a headache pill down, drank some more, and then grabbed a notepad from the counter, dropping it on the couch. "Read."

Paul slowly lifted his head, pulling the notepad closer. It was Daryl's very short report, written in slightly crooked handwriting with a pencil. 

**Good:** _-reading_

**Bad** : - _subroom_

**Like:** - _walk with Tiger_  
_-grapes_

**Hate** : - _subroom_

**Change:** _Negan's work_

He stared at it, trying to push the images of the subroom aside. The grunts of disapproval, the tension, his hand cockily clad in rubber as if he was somebody else.

Negan kept his distance. He walked over to the windows, looking out into the darkness. "I was the first guy to fuck him after his father did."

Paul closed his eyes at the blunt statement, sickness flooding his chest like a shockwave.

"I worked hard to get him where he is now. I still work hard every fucking day. On his self-esteem. His self-perception. To set his head straight about what it fucking looks like to take care of someone. To give him the chance to explore his sexuality in a safe environment. Make him confident about his desires. Have him experience real fuckin' pleasure. To have him fucking realize that he isn't the goddamnfucking bad guy here. That he's not a worthless piece of shit." He went back to the sofa, pulled the notepad from his sub's fingers, and sat back down, brushing hair from a pale face. "You wanna look at me."

Paul took a deep breath and pressed his lips tightly together when he opened his eyes, meeting a serious face.

"There's a damn good reason why his ass is off-limits. There's a reason for the collar around his neck. For the rules I set. There's a reason why he's mine. Only." 

He nodded, feeling his nose getting wet and his throat tighten up. He wanted to say sorry but then didn't get a word out and just buried his face into the fabric of grey pajama pants, soaking it with hot breath and stinging tears.

Negan let him and patiently waited and watched, stroking his boy's head. "I'm not trying to guilt-talk you here. I know you have your own shit to deal with. We see it. It's recognized." He lifted the man's chin with two fingers, creating eye contact. "But I want you to understand. He won't kneel for you and next time you try a stunt like that I will come and protect what's mine. Do I make myself clear."

Jesus tried to nod the best he could in the firm grip, wiping some wetness from his eye. "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry."

"I know." Negan released him, softening his tone. "You get a chance to talk to him tomorrow." He snapped his fingers when Paul dropped his head again. "No, eyes on me. I also want you to understand that it was a mistake and you can learn from it. Use your head. You're smart. Figure out what you really want and work hard to get it."

"Hff. With all due respect, Sir-" Paul huffed a sigh in slight annoyance and gracefully rose to his feet. "-that's easy for you to say. Nothing ever changes here. You are the top, he is the bottom. Everybody knows it and treats you accordingly." He went to the tissue box on the kitchen counter, pulled one out and soundly blew his nose in it... pausing in between when Daryl stirred in the bedroom. "And as long as I was up here with you it was a breeze for me too." He lowered his voice into a whisper as he went back to the couch, flopping down next to Negan, legs pulled up close to his chest. "But now I live down there with them full time, and it's great... don't get me wrong!" He swung his arms out with a chuckle, then wiped his still teary eyes with the balled-up tissue. "But sometimes it is pretty hard too, you know?" He snuggled up to Negan's side, glad when a long arm wrapped around his shoulders to pull him even closer. "Thank God for Shane or I would have gone crazy by now!" He hid his face behind his knees, growling in pure frustration.

It made Negan smirk. "And why is that. Enlighten me."

"BECAUSE-" Jesus was shooshed instantly and lowered his voice again. "Because, one minute I get ordered around, which pisses me off because my head instantly goes 'Hey, don't tell me what to do!' but I'm good and I do it anyway and then the next minute I see Shane ordering him around and my head is like 'See? That's what I'm talking about!'. Argh!" He growled again, fisting ten fingers into his already messy hair. "It's so frustrating!" 

Negan didn't want to laugh because he totally saw the problem, but it was hard to suppress.

"Don't laugh, Sir?" Paul glanced up at one of his dads. "I'm serious. I don't know how to behave around him. It's like we're both acting half of the time. I can't be myself and I don't wanna be mad at him but sometimes I am because it could be so easy and he's making it so hard!"

"He's not making it hard. He just needs time to adapt. He's come a long way. He had a wife. He's a dad. He fell in love with you guys. And all this time he was supposed to be in charge somehow. It's tough for him to drop the guards now. You see how much he struggles even in front of me and Shane. What do you expect him to do in front of you? You are much younger, you are a proud sub, he tried to take care of your sassy ass for years, and now he's suddenly supposed to see you in a different light."

"But that's the point, Sir!" Paul turned around, a hand on Negan's chest. "I see him in a different light and it's impossible to make it unseen."

Negan nodded, very serious this time. "Well then don't. Stop pretending. Do and say what comes naturally. Sooner or later he will do the same and everything falls into place. Such shifts take time."

"I know." Paul exhaled, snuggling up to Negan's chest again. He twiddled with his fingers for a while, thinking. Then wrinkled his nose. "Sir? Do you think I could be a Dom?"

Negan groaned, patting his sub's thigh. "I believe you could be a fucking bossy bottom with the ability to top." He kissed the man's head, then got up because it was late and he was old. "But you're welcome to surprise me."

"Hm." Paul remained sitting, pursing his lips. Bossy bottom with the ability to top didn't sound so bad for now. 

  
  



	9. Reign

Doing the inventory was Daryl's favorite time at the store. Everyone worked together to count every piece and item in Negan's possession while not one silly fanboy could come in because the 'Closed for stocktaking' sign was out. They even had pizza and cold ginger lemonade and Jesus was allowed to play some music in the background as long as it wasn't too loud. It was great!

"Great. Just great." Rick had just counted 373 silicone urethral sounds in size 2 before he tripped over a metal spreader bar and dropped the whole box, forcing him to start from the beginning.

"Paul." Shane nudged his sub's arm. "Help him." 

"No problem, Sir." Jesus flung his piece of pizza on a slightly soggy paper plate and jumped off the counter, making sure to showcase his perfect backside as he bent down with straight legs to pick up a bunch of sounds. "Do I get to keep some?"

"No." Negan entered the salesroom from behind the checkout, swatting boy number two's ass as he passed him. 

"Hey. Buy me a drink first?"

"No." Negan pinched Rick's chin and answered the scowl he earned with a genuine smile. "Where's Daryl?" 

Paul was tired already and decided to get comfortable, sitting down Indian style as he collected another sound. "He's over there." He pointed with it towards the 'tools and aids' section, before leaning his head against Negan's leg in hopes for a snuggle. "Are you hungry, Daddy? Glenn got us pizza."

"No, thanks. I'll grab something after the conference." Negan raked three fingers through his sub's long hair.

Paul peeked up. "The video chat-thing with Miss Jadis and the guys from Doghouse?"

"Look at you being such a good little secretary. Always up to fucking date." 

He saluted weakly because counting stuff was really exhausting. "Always at your service, Sir." He turned his head to kiss Negan's knee, getting his cheek patted for it. "Would you mind if I take a break?"

"In an hour. You wanna help Rick." Negan left to find boy number one in the back of the salesroom, rummaging through a big black paper bag. "There you are! Haven't seen you all morning."

A very faint smile softened Daryl's face as he felt long fingers at the back of his collared neck. He looked over his shoulder with a gruff greeting. "Hello."

"Hi. Are you a good inventory boy?"

He sniffed his nose with a shrug. "Jus' countin' your meds."

"Hh." Negan squinted, grabbing the bag for a look inside. It was the rest of the give-aways the Leather Factory had handed out during the last Pride parade. "It's not medication, it's lube. Looks like pills but you use them to get your butt nice and ready for your top, right."

"Hm." Daryl wasn't sure what to do with the information because the bag was full of blister packs and each of them contained 4 rather big, translucent pills. "How."

The question sounded pretty rude but Negan ignored the hostile attitude and took one out to explain it, squeezing the soft capsule between his fingers. "They're made of a solid gel with lubricant inside. You work them up your butt. After a while they dissolve and release the lube, making you wet and ready for my dick." He loved the attentive look he was given and handed the capsule over. "You wanna try it?"

Daryl shrugged one shoulder, "I can." while secretly bursting with excitement. He always had difficulties to handle the slippery lube bottles or preparing himself without Paul's help. Having an easy way to do it on his own sounded awesome.

"Mhm. You should. You'll like it." Negan gave his sub two more blister packs, nodding his chin to the right. "You may go to the staff room to insert them. Then you come back and work some more until they dissolve and I can fuck your pretty butt for doing such a great job here."

"Hey! No fair!" Paul's voice resounded from somewhere behind the shelf with ballgags. "I'm here since seven in the morning and all I get is pizza!"

Negan groaned, massaging his forehead as boy number one walked off, unconsciously rubbing his butt, boy number two complained about not getting his ass fucked enough, and boy number three muttered something about the entire box of pepperoni pizza he had just dropped on his freshly washed jeans and the pile of urethral sounds. Maybe he needed more coffee. 

\----

At 11:09 in the late morning, Shane glanced up from his inventory sheets for the third time when the young man in the bootblacking department exhaled a sound of slight distress and stood a bit straddle-legged while pulling the seam of his pants. 

"Everything alright, buddy?" The gruff little 'Yeah' he got for an answer was accompanied by a look of pure embarrassment and a glowing shade of pink on a usually rather pale face. If he wouldn't have known better he would have thought somebody had peed their pants. "Sure? Come here for a sec." He put his clipboard down on the counter, waving two fingers.

Daryl didn't want to come. He didn't want to walk or move at all. His underwear was all soggy, it was slick and warm between his thighs and buttcheeks, and for some reason, his penis had twitched twice already as if it thought the situation was kind of funny. But Shane had put his paper sheets down, the pen also, and sat now on the edge of the counter, beckoning him over with a serious face. So he sniffed his nose once, put the leather brush he was about to count back on the shelf, and stalked across the salesroom, glad that Glenn and Simon were at the warehouse to help Rick with the collapsed stack of pallets.

"What's going on, man? Are you plugged? Is it uncomfortable?"

He scowled at his feet. "No!"

Shane nodded, pinching his nose... and after a moment of consideration took his phone out. "Yeah, Shane. Are you still busy? No... but I would send him over. Yeah. Alright." He ended the call and lowered his head a bit in an attempt to create eye contact with the grumpy man in his care. "We're taking a break. You can go for an early nap."

Daryl scowled, one arm wrapped across his chest. "'not goin' with you."

"Nah man, I'm going for a run. You go see the chief at the office, he'll take you."

He didn't really look up but felt somewhat reconciled. "Hm."

"Alright." Shane held his hand up for a fist bump and waited patient 6 seconds before Daryl participated in the gesture. "See you later."

Daryl wrinkled his nose, mumbling a small 'later' before he left, stalking a bit awkwardly towards the door. Sometimes he really liked Shane a lot.

\----

Negan was at the phone, standing behind his desk when Daryl arrived.  
"No, I agree. Seventeen, plus the free trial. Yes." He shot a glance at the door when it cautiously opened and waved his sub over. "Why not? We've had brown saddle leather last time. They won't care. Mhm." He snaked an arm around the boy's waist and pulled him close to his side, chuckling to the remark made at the other end of the line. "Yeah right... in a fuckin' month maybe but surely not now." 

Daryl had no idea who the person on the phone was or what the conversation was about, but he really liked that Negan wanted him so close. He also liked the deep voice booming through a broad chest, the familiar scent of cologne, and most of all the hand playing absently with the waistband of his pants. How it slipped beneath his shirt to caress the small of his back and create slight goosebumps... before it slipped downward and vanished inside his black denims, finding soggy underwear and a warm, very slick buttcrack. The discovery seemed to delight the explorer because he paused his phone conversation for a surprised sound full of appreciation and a glance down with a silently mouthed 'Nice' that made Daryl's belly flip in pride and excitement.

"Mhm. No." Negan was in love with everything he saw and felt. Prettily tousled hair busy hiding an even prettier, nicely blushed face, all snuggling up to his shoulder and upper arm while he unashamedly massaged the ridiculously wet hole he had found. "I won't attend this year. It clashes with the con in Houston." He had no idea how many capsules Daryl had used but whatever the magic number was, he wanted the recipe perpetuated in the family cookbook for delicious feasts. "August. 17th." He felt his dick swell uncomfortably behind his tight fly when he swiped his fingers up and down between the gooey globes and eventually pushed a digit through the small entrance where it was even warmer and wetter. An unholy curse shot through his head but never made it out of his mouth, instead, he looked down to see pale pink lips, parted for the sweetest little pants huffing through and blue eyes clouded with a serious plea. "Yeah, definitely. Let me know." He smirked with a single wag of his brows, "Thanks. See you then. Bye." ended the call, blindly put the phone on his desk, and in the next second, "God damn, boy..." lost himself in a very urgent, passionate kiss, deep and primal. One hand fisting longish hair to hold everything he wanted to taste in place, the other performing a dextrous prostate massage because if he loved anything more than a hot, wet hole, it was desperate mewling noises moaned and huffed right into his mouth. "What did you do?" He pulled back just enough to give his sub's lips an obscene lick with broad tongue. "Is that my favorite hole, all wet and ready?" The most gorgeous shudder went through Daryl's body when he twisted his fingers inside the slick cavity, producing a nice, wet sound. "Yeah, it is. Makes me want to skip fuckin' lunch and take my boy for a prolonged trip to the kennel." 

The image of pasta served in a blue dog bowl and a very tall, very beautiful man jerking him off in room 0-20 while he tried to eat it on all fours tumbled through Daryl's confused mind as he willed his legs to do their job and keep him upright. Pleasure pumped through his lower body, making him see stars and blink twice before he hid his face in a soft white shirt, nodding fervently.

Negan purred, deep and dark. "Yeah, you'd like that, right... naughty boy." He fished blindly for the phone he had dumped on the desk, dialed a specific number, and passed the wait with another deep kiss and more magical fingerwork until his call was answered. And even then he delivered a last long swipe with his tongue before he addressed the receiver of the call. "Rick. Are you still at the warehouse?" He tipped his head to the right, admiring his sub's lust-stricken face from a different angle. "Mhm. Finish that later. My boy here needs a bucket. I have a feeling there'll be lots to clean today."

\----

"For fucks s-" Rick stifled a curse when he left room 0-20 and almost slipped on the wet stairs where he had accidentally spilled half a liter of soap water just 3 minutes ago. God, he hated this chore! ...and at the same time, he loved it so much that he actually dreamed about it very vividly most nights only to wake up with a raging boner or an embarrassing wet spot on the sheets. Which pissed him off. ...and ironically also filled him with a huge sense of pride every time he was in the same room with Negan. Because serving this man by serving his sub was the ultimate fulfillment. Why? He had no idea. And it was certainly better for his sanity not to question this odd part of his heart. But for some reason, without ever having talked about it, Negan had known about his little dark secret desires and weird daydreams and had built a schedule of chores accordingly. Gave him a fitting spot in the pack. That's how it always was. Negan, this fucking beautiful bastard just knew. All and everything. Could read the room, had the seventh sense, and was able to figure every human being out in under 3 minutes if he wanted to. It could be a curse or the biggest blessing.

Which category it was right now, Rick had no clue. The only thing he knew was that he could hardly walk in his very tight pants after delivering a bucket of soapy water to the room his boss called the kennel. It made him so hard he couldn't think straight and almost let him miss the door to his own apartment on the way upstairs. He needed release and he needed it now. Not in the bathroom, though. He had been busted in there way too often. The bedroom was a bad idea as well. Paul's room however was a safe bet because he wasn't there right now and therefore Shane had no reason to come in.

He closed the door and looked around the cluttered room, feeling his stomach tumble weirdly. As always. It was an endless battle between his dick and his old school morals, rooted deeply in a life that didn't even exist anymore. When he was still married to a woman and spent his Sunday afternoons at Carl's baseball training.

Now he lusted after a man. The most gorgeous specimen the male world had to offer. Tall, proud, powerful beyond belief, and way too confident for his own good. His heart and dick were on the same page here. His brain not so much. His brain and all the morals it internalized, unfortunately, had not much to say as soon as he found a cozy spot on Paul's bed and opened his pants, wishing it wouldn't be his own hand that started stroking. Tugging. Pinching. Squeezing. He didn't want to be too gentle. He wanted to feel what he secretly wished and hoped for. The thought alone made his pulse speed up, his heart pound, his body temperature rise to a boiling point. He closed his eyes, trying to envision a stern voice, firm hands, a handsome face. And after a minute he opened his eyes again and fumbled for his phone because imaginary Negan wasn't enough anymore. He needed to see him. Them. The moment Daryl was brought to climax. The sweet mess he would be allowed to clean up. He panted as he tapped and swiped the display with one trembling finger, trying to log in to the video surveillance. And when he finally managed to remember his code, his pounding heart almost jumped out of his chest. It wasn't just naked Daryl on all fours getting jerked off fast and efficiently. It was naked Daryl on his knees, sucking his owner with almost religious devotion. It was Negan snapping his fingers for his sub to bend over and spread his cheeks for a generous view at a dripping hole. It was two men fucking like they were starving. For touch, for skin, tongue, spit, sperm. For each other. It was messy. Obscene. A lot of sweat and even more noise. A ton of lube getting mixed with a ton of cum.

Rick hardly had to touch himself to reach a mind staggering, otherworldly climax that made him shoot a load equaling the amount of three average weeks. It left him weak and limp and satisfied. Glowing from head to toe. Happy and excitingly guilty for breaking the rules on misusing the camera system.

It let him freeze on Paul's bed, one hand still on his spent dick, the other holding a fairly new smartphone, ...when the door opened.

Shane snorted a laugh, shaking his head. "Really, man? Thought we had talked about this."

\----

After naptime, Daryl had felt especially clingy, but due to taking the inventory, wasn't able to be as close to Negan as he would have liked. Negan had a short appointment in town, Negan had to organize next Threshold, Negan was busy at the office. Even after dinner. Even at bedtime.

Daryl sniffed his nose, freshly showered in bed, comforter pulled up to the chin, wishing the man standing by the open closet would just undress and join him. "'can you sleep."

The small question sounded kind of gruff but Negan answered it anyway as he took a shirt out of his closet that looked like the perfect candidate to wear for the meeting in the morning. "Am I able to go to bed just yet? No. I still have some work to do, right?" He shut the closet and put the shirt on the dresser, then leaned over his sub, arms propped left and right from his head. "But you sleep. It was a long day." He was glared at instantly and arched a brow in warning. 

Daryl pressed his head a bit deeper into the pillow to get more distance between himself and the stern face. "'can help you." 

The offer sounded conciliatory but Negan held the reprimand look a moment longer. "Tell me why you can't help."

Daryl grimaced and brought a hand out beneath the thick covers to fumble with a strand of his hair. "You said sleep."

"Why."

"'was a long day."

"True. You will also have a long day tomorrow and you wanna be fit. So you will sleep now and keep my fucking bed warm until I join you. Right?"

The strict tone sent tingles through Daryl's chest and he lifted his shoulder to touch his ear with it. "Hm." It was true. He had a visit at the prison scheduled for 10 AM the next day and he wanted to get at least an hour of swim training done before that. "Right."

"Good." Negan lowered down, close enough for a kiss but without actually touching lips. "I fucking loved nap time today. Still has me hard just thinking about it." 

Daryl huffed a soundless breath, staring up into a close face.

"Yeah?" Negan tilted his head, skimming his sub's cheek with his facial hair. "You liked being fucked in the kennel?"

Daryl closed his eyes, nodding. "Yes."

"Mhm. It was fucking hot, right... dripping for my dick like that." 

He wanted to say that he could do it again if he would get more of the fantastic butt pills but then he didn't get to say anything when he was kissed, deep and slow and far too erotic for a tame goodnight kiss.

Negan took his time, enjoying the clean, silky sensation of his boy's mouth to the fullest before he retreated. "You wanna be my good boy now and snooze for a while until I'm back." It wasn't a question and wasn't contradicted but met with a very decorous 'Yes' and obediently shut eyes that he rewarded with a peck on the forehead, "See you later, Mister Dixon."

\----

After a long evening spent at the store to finish all the chores that came with taking the inventory, Rick made his way through the building to report back at office number 7 where he knocked twice at the door before he opened. "You wanted to see me?"

Negan ignored the hostile tone. "Yes. Come in." He shut his laptop and put a paper folder into his desk drawer, then gestured for his employee to take a seat on the couch. "You know why I asked you to see me?"

Rick didn't want to sit down and crossed his arms in front of his chest instead. "I suppose you'll tell me." Of course he knew why he was called in. And half an hour ago he had felt pretty excited when he got the order to see his Boss at the office. Now, however, his excitement had dimmed down drastically, realizing that it wasn't a safe fantasy but a very real situation.

Negan shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "You are here because Shane told me that you had a little porn session this afternoon. Again."

The heat flushing Rick's skin betrayed the annoyed scowl he wanted to present and he tried his best to mask it all up with a snidely chuckle. "Now you two talk behind my back?" He looked at the wall, mumbling the rest of his statement. "Good to know..."

"Hm." Negan folded his hands over his stomach. "Would you prefer to jerk off in private while you covertly watch me fucking my boy?"

Rick scrunched up his face, digging his nails into his palms.

Negan didn't expect an answer and showed no sign of anger or disappointment. "We gave you access to the video surveillance so you could help keep the boy safe while he's in a playroom on his own. It's not for your fucking enjoyment. You've been caught taking advantage of your access before. You've been warned. You've been fuckin' punished. And still, you don't give a shit about the rules I set and think your fucking dick comes first."

The scowl on Rick's face got deeper just like the shade of red on his cheeks. He ground his teeth, wanting to say a million things... but in the end, he said nothing and just stared at the wall with his fists clenched by his sides.

"It doesn't." Negan changed his tone just slightly and made a little pause to study his employee. "In fact, your dick is very fucking last in line here."

The comment made Rick's heart stumble and the body part in question twitch in the tight confinement of his pants. He didn't want to stare at the wall anymore, either. He wanted to lower his eyes and had to take a deep breath when he really found the courage and saw his old western boots on a neatly cleaned carpet.

"You know me long enough to understand that I'm not playing around here. If you want to be part of my household you have to play by the rules. I wouldn't allow any violation of your privacy, I won't allow it when it comes to my other boys. If you want to be a part of a scene or watch me fuck my pup, you will come here and ask for fucking permission." He paused again, pleased with the other man's demeanor. "Is that understood?"

Strangely enough, Rick didn't feel angry at all. He was surprised by the respectful, calm tone he was spoken to. He was thrilled by the things he heard. The message he received. And it gave him the bravery to nod. Just once and very faintly, but he did.

And Negan accepted the nonverbal answer and sat up, "Good." pushing the button of the intercom. "Eugene. Be a lamb and bring me an S87 in small and a water from the fridge." As always his loyal employee on the other end of the line didn't question the order and just answered with a firm 'Roger. S87 in small and a 5,0 Evian from the fridge coming up.' before leaving his little tech-filled office space, grab the item his boss asked for from the store, and delivered it at Negan's desk along with the necessary set of keys in under seven minutes.

"Thanks." Negan accepted both and waited until the door was shut again before he waved two fingers for sub number three. "Come here."

Rick glanced up for the first time to spit a defiant question. "Why."

Negan pursed his lips. "You tell me."

'Because you said so' shot through Rick's mind but there was no way in hell that he would say that out loud. And after a grudging minute, he decided to rather follow the first request and walk over to stand by the desk.

Negan got up with a groan and straightened to full seize right in front of his sub. "You wanna drop your pants."

Rick squinted, first in surprise, then disbelief, but was met by an absolute serious expression and an eyebrow arched in waiting. "Th." He huffed a breath, shook his head, and chose to look somewhere to the left as he started to unbuckle his belt, heart pounding in excitement, face glowing in shame, while humiliation and an unbelievable thrill flooded his body. 

Negan waited patiently until a snug pair of washed-out denims hung around the man's ankles, followed by a cheap pair of underwear, exposing a semi-hard penis. He didn't comment on it, just unscrewed the bottle of ice-cold water, then unceremoniously grabbed the man's dick and poured half of the bottle's content over the pink head, effectively causing immediate shrinkage and a sound of pure shock and discomfort. "Sorry..." He let go, screwed the cap back on the bottle, and grabbed the S87 steel chastity device to open it up. "But all that excitement won't fit into my cage, right?" He smirked at the solid humiliation written all over Rick's face and blindly started to pull penis and balls through the ring. "You get it as a friendly reminder of your dick's fucking importance here. You take a piss with it, you keep it the fuck clean. That's it." He pressed the head and shaft into the small metal confinement, made sure it sat correctly and snapped it shut. "No fucking fondling through your pants when you think I don't fucking see it. No rubbing one out while watching my pup in the kennel." He took one of the keys and locked the device at the top. "You're here to serve. You're here to concentrate on your chores. You wanna learn to focus on the people in charge." He took half a step back. "Pants up."

Rick's head was swimming. A confused mess, aroused and humiliated to the max. Over the moon happy and ineffable angry at the same time. Relieved and strangely emotional. He ground his teeth and grimaced as he bent down to pull his drenched pants up, slowly, avoiding his eyes. He felt like he might tear up and wasn't exactly sure why. He wanted to hug that beautiful tall bastard standing in front of him and punch him in the face. But he didn't and just buckled his belt up with slightly trembling fingers. 

"You'll wear it until further notice. Each day before work you report whether there's any problem. I'll give you the key, you're allowed to use the sub room for ten minutes. You clean it, put it the fuck back on, and bring me my key back." Negan held the second key up. "This one's for Shane. Go hand it over and then work on the sweet fucking apology you wanna send me for using my boy's safety cam for your fucking sperm production. 50 words minimum." He waved two fingers towards the door, "Chop, chop." and went to sit back down, opening his laptop.

Rick didn't move for almost a minute. He didn't even blink. And when his feet finally made their way towards the door and his hand slowly reached out to touch the doorknob, he was stopped by a casual but somewhat gentle voice. Deep and comforting. 

"Rick. What do you wanna say."

He didn't turn around. He kept his eyes fixed on the shiny doorknob. He felt his lungs fill with air in preparation to speak. He felt his throat clench and his heart almost jump out of his chest. He opened his mouth twice before real words came out the third try. "Thank you." It sounded strange to his own ears. Strange but not fake. And before he was able to process the accomplishment he had just made... two of the world's most precious words soothed the fear and terror stomping through his shocked mind.

"Good boy. You may leave." 


	10. surrender

Rick wasn't in the best mood when he made his way upstairs. He had provided his partner with a special oral sex wake-up service and frankly, it had left him kind of horny and undeniably unsatisfied with the taste of Shane's cum in the mouth and an angry dick in the unforgiving confines of its metal cage. And that he was about to see Negan in this state didn't exactly help the situation. All of it combined added to the hostile expression he wore on his face when the door was opened for him. Not by Daryl or Olivia, but a gorgeous tall man in a surprisingly formal outfit. Hair slicked back, beard freshly trimmed, black Hugo Boss pants, and a white button-down shirt tucked into them. The neat business look got completed by the most delicious cologne, musk, and spice in a magical mixture that crawled like an aphrodisiac up his nose and through his system.

"Morning." Negan was busy putting a watch on his wrist and didn't wait for his guest to come in as he walked back to the dining table. "You're early. That's good, I have an appointment."

Rick wanted to spew that nobody scheduled important meetings for a Saturday morning but then kept his mouth shut and instead followed his boss and the tantalizing cloud of fragrance like a kitten in hopes for a treat or a ball of wool.

"Daryl." Negan held his wrist out for the young man at the table, indicating for him to finish the job. "You remember why Rick joins us today?"

Daryl did remember. It was Daddy-boy-day for Shane and Jesus and Rick wasn't supposed to be alone. But that didn't mean that he liked it. "Yeah." He scowled at the silver buckle as he snapped it shut.

"Great." Negan adjusted his left sleeve cuff. "I am back in two hours. You may clean the sundeck in the meantime." 

Daryl squinted at his half-eaten breakfast bagel. "'can do it alone."

"You could. But Glenn and Simon take care of the store and I want you to work with Rick on the sundeck. The spilled beer, the fuckin' watermelon seeds. All gone until I'm back."

Rick put a hand on his hip, grimacing in annoyance. "That's not a job for two and you know it."

"Mhm. The only thing I know is that it's not fucking national argue with your superior day." Negan grabbed his phone and wallet, storing both in the back pockets of his pants before he arched his brows at sub number three. "Right? I also know that you wanna report. How's my fuckin' cage holding up."

Rick put the second hand on his hip as well, trying to counter the cocky look he was given. ...for three meek seconds before he avoided his eyes, looking to the left. "What do you think."

Negan didn't comment on the dismissive attitude, watched his employee in silence for a minute, and then blindly reached out to unbutton the man's fly, finding a painfully squished erection in a chastity device. "You served your man this morning?" He didn't get an answer but took the violent blush creeping over Rick's skin as a 'Yes'. "Nice." He didn't button it up again but went to get a bottle of water out of the fridge and a small key out of the metal bowl on the dresser, handing both over. "Go to the sub room, take it off, get that blood back to your head, then clean my cage and your dick. You keep the key until I'm back. Tomorrow you work on a better report." He pointed towards the door. "Start."

Rick scrunched up his nose and needed 24 seconds until he finally moved, silently, with a stumbling heart and his pants unbuttoned. 

Daryl didn't blink until the door got shut and even then wasn't sure where to look or what to think. He felt embarrassed and angry and a little bit like crying, especially when long fingers caressed the back of his collared neck.

"You wanna come with me to the car? Tell me goodbye?" Negan got the faintest shake of the head, "No? You wanna stay here and finish your breakfast?" and leaned down to kiss his sub's head. "Okay. See you later then." He made it all the way through the dining area, the living room, and half the hall before he was stopped by a piece of bagel flying against the coatrack and a protesting 'I come!' in a gruff voice that had a clear amount of panic to it. He looked back over his shoulder, hearing a chair scrape over his expensive hardwood floor, and calmly pointed at the wasted breakfast. "Pick that up, please."

Daryl did, his heart hammering in rage and distress, making his breathing much too fast and his eyes blink rapidly. He held the bagel out for Negan, not daring to look up. The food wasn't accepted but he was pulled in by two strong arms, holding him tight against a very solid chest. A hand rested firmly on his head, shielding him from all the invisible terror surrounding his thoughts. It made him close his eyes and mumble a little 'm sorry' against a freshly ironed shirt.

"It's a chastity device." Negan raked his fingers through tousled hair. "It's not for his pleasure and not for mine. It is punishment for repeatedly breaking the rules. He wears it to remember his fucking place in my house." He waited a moment to give enough time to process the information and experienced a true moment of fatherly pride when he felt a pretty strong pinch at his side right above his hipbone. Still, he tried to keep the smile out of his voice. "Are you pinching me?"

"Hm." Daryl didn't want to nod because he felt a bit guilty.

"Yeah? Are you too polite to punch me?" The answer he got after 6 seconds was a shy hand stroking the exact same spot that had gotten pinched. It evoked a chuckle deep from his chest and he made a step back and took his sub's face in both hands, creating firm eye contact. "You are right." He arched his brows, making sure he was understood correctly. "It's an intimate act. I should have told you before. I fucked up." He smiled at the little affirmative, very serious 'Hm' he got and leaned in to kiss a pale forehead. "I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable. Thanks for pinching me."

Daryl hadn't known that the good business pants made of fancy fabric had a secret raisin stash in one of its pockets, but he loved that it did and chewed his reward proudly on the way down the stairs past room 21 where Rick was in to clean his punishment device instead of being allowed to accompany the chief of everything down to the car.

Negan cursed as he brushed some butter croissant crumbs off the passenger seat, adjusted the sun visier, put the seatbelt on, and reached for the door handle but looked up at his sub before he pulled it shut. "Will I come back to a clean sundeck?"

Daryl wrinkled his nose but nodded anyway. "'kay."

"Good. I might have a reward for you if everything's to my liking." Negan started the car, "See you later." smiled and shut the door. He didn't reach the gates of his property though before he had to stop again, a young man jogging after the car. He squinted, opening the window. "What's wrong, boy?"

"'s it a cage?" Daryl was a bit out of breath as he reached the open car window and didn't even think before he touched his crotch to explain what he meant.

Negan didn't have the slightest amount of amusement in his voice. "Will you get a cage for scrubbing my sundeck? No. You get a reward, not a punishment. And I don't want you to wear a fucking cage, I want to have access to your pretty dick 24/7. I want you to get hard. I want to see you dripping when I play with your hole." He didn't see a reason to lower his voice when old Mrs. Wagner walked by the open gate with her yapping dachshund. Instead, he lifted two fingers off the steering wheel for a friendly greeting. "Plus-" He looked back at his boy, tapping his own neck. "You already have a goddamnfucking reminder of your place in my house." 

Daryl sniffed his nose and touched his neck as well, feeling the sturdy steel band around it. It made him smile the faintest bit.

Negan as well. He gave a nod, a wink... and left, shooting a glance at the pretty guy he saw in the rearview mirror, standing in his driveway. "Fuckin' puppy."

\----

"Son of a bitch!" After 1 hour and 37 minutes of excessive cleaning on the factory's roof, scrubbing dried beer, spilled suncream, and sticky watermelon seeds off the wooden planks, Daryl Dixon almost lost his shit when it clanked and clattered and a whole bucket of clay pebbles for subtropical plants spread over the floor, including the little palm tree it had been holding. "Just finished that part!"

"I tripped." Rick immediately started to collect the little pebbles, annoyed that he was scolded by the usually rather quiet sub boy. "Mind your own business."

Daryl got on his knees and helped as well. "He wants it clean when he's back."

"It is almost clean." Rick gritted his teeth. "And he'll survive if it's not."

Daryl glanced up with a look to kill but didn't say anything because the last comment had just been stupid. They put the whole plant-arrangement back together, placed the little sago palm on the narrow decorative brick wall next to the jacuzzi, and fished a small leaf out of the otherwise clean water. Just in time when the door to the rooftop flew open.

"Look at that." Negan showed himself impressed as he strolled through his personal chill-out zone. "Everything spit and span."

Rick crossed his arms. "You're early."

Negan swiped a finger over one of the deckchairs, smiling, "Guess I missed you." and turned around when he heard something that sounded a lot like a disapproving growl from boy number one. He whistled through his teeth and snapped his fingers. "Come here."

Daryl did, scowling at his worn-down leather shoes until his chin was grabbed and lifted up for eye contact.

"You wanna report. What did you clean while I was gone."

He shifted on his feet once and huffed a little breath, blindly pointing a finger to the right. "Water 'n floor." He had also scrubbed a little stain off one of the deckchair covers. He believed it had been ketchup from Paul's last midnight snack. "'n the pillow."

"Very good. Did you work together nicely as I asked you to?" Negan got a spiteful 'What do you think' coming from his employee and simultaneously a wary shake of the head from his permanent sub whose eyes flickered in uncertainty when he heard his teammates answer. The left corner of Negan's mouth tipped up as a result and he commented with a little groan, releasing Daryl's chin. "Go wash your hands and set the table for lunch."

\----

Lunch with two subs at one table had been a small disaster. Discrepancies over the right location for cutlery and napkins. A fight about dirty fingernails and too much slurping. Another fight over the last piece of gluten-free pizza and a jealous face when Rick was allowed to stay in the apartment with Tiger while Daryl was supposed to go for his after-lunch-nap-routine in the kennel. It was exhausting.

Negan leaned back in his office chair to accept a call. "What's up boy. Having fun?" 

"So much, Sir! Shane rented us ATV's and we're speeding through the woods!" Jesus pulled the bandana off his mouth and nose, smiling brightly. "Wish Daryl could be here!"

"Next time."

"Is he around? Can I talk to him?"

"Talk to him when you're back, he's taking a nap."

"Uuh." Jesus purred into his phone. "Kennel time."

"Yes." Negan glanced at the screen of the video surveillance system, seeing a wide-awake Daryl Dixon sitting naked on the ground in his private little playroom. Which was a first since they had invented their after-lunch ritual. Normally the young man was out like a light after reaching orgasm and slept until Negan woke him up. "You take care and have fun with Shane. See you tonig-"

"Stop! Wait, Daddy! He wants to talk to you real quick!"

"Yeah." Negan took the phone into the other hand and moved with the chair closer to his desk to check some e-mails. "Be good."

"I will, Sir! See you tonight!" Jesus handed the slightly dusty phone to one of his Dads and jogged to the left to relieve himself behind a group of blackberry bushes. "Be right back! Have to tinkle!"

Shane looked after him, shaking his head. It was the third piss break in two hours. "Jeez, man. Boy has a bladder like a pregnant lady."

Negan smirked even though he read through a rather unpleasant business report from the new store in Tel Aviv. "Having fun?" 

"Yeah, it's great." Shane raked a hand through his sweaty hair. He really needed a haircut. "How's it going with Rick and the boy? Getting along?"

Negan glanced from his computer to the video screen. "Could be better." Daryl still wasn't asleep, sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, obviously deep in thought. "Boy's having a hard time."

"Figured." Shane flicked a bug off his thigh. "Should we come back early?"

"No." Negan scrolled through his in-box. "Paul needs some quality time. Will give them something to work on."

"Alright, man." Shane turned around when his sub came back and handed him the helmet. "We'll get some food on the way back."

"Thanks. Later." Negan ended the call, shut his laptop, and got up, grabbing the keys. Normally he wouldn't have cut nap-time short, but today felt like an exception was needed. Normally he wouldn't have knocked at the door either, but this time he did and smiled when the man on the ground looked at him kind of startled anyway as soon as he entered. "How come you're not asleep?"

Daryl shrugged one shoulder. "Dunno." He really didn't but he wished he would have been able to sleep instead of wondering what awesome wonderful things the Cowboy boots guy was certainly allowed to do with Negan, probably with cockcages involved.

"Mhm." Negan shut the door, switched the lights on, and groaned at his old bones when he lowered down to sit on the ground as well, long legs bent, back against the wall. "Maybe you've been wondering what your special reward might be."

"Hm?" Daryl sniffed his nose, shifting closer to his kennel guest. Usually, Negan didn't come to sit with him in here but now that it happened he liked it very much. 

"Hm? I told you if you clean my sundeck properly you might get a reward." Negan lifted one buttock off the ground and pulled a small leather pouch out of his pants pocket along with his phone. "Come here. I show you." He spread his legs a little wider to offer the space between for his sub to sit. "It's from a market in Marrakech. I got it on a business trip ten years ago."

Daryl crouched between his owner's thighs, watching as a silver bracelet was pulled out of the pouch. It was heavy and sturdy and a little bit cold when it was put on his wrist.

"You like it?" 

He held his hand up, a little dumbfounded. "I wear it?"

"I sure hope so." Negan snapped the little clasp shut. "Looks good on you."

Daryl took it up to his nose and very briefly sniffed it before he glanced at his owner. "Thank you." He had never owned real jewelry except for his collar and felt it was maybe a bit too much just for cleaning a silly sundeck. "I can wash the car, too."

"No need. You deserve it. Now turn around, wanna show you something." Negan held his arms out, patiently waiting until his naked sub had shifted around and sat back to chest with him. He loved it. Boy smelled fuckin' great and got his dick interested in an unscheduled afternoon fuck. Not right away though. "Here. Look." He wrapped an arm across Daryl's upper chest, right below his chin, and held the phone up. "It's from my trip to Morocco."

Daryl held his breath, staring at the small screen and the video clip playing on it. A slightly younger Negan, beard almost completely black, in loose, white cotton pants and his hairy chest bare, tanned, and glorious. Big smiles and charming attitude with a lot of people Daryl had never seen before, palm trees, a beautiful white building, a huge pool of nice blue water, and music playing in the background. 

"That was my colleague at the time. Fucker died in 2013. Was a great guy." Negan pointed at a man with curly hair and glasses. "And that's Gemma. She still works for me at our store in Dublin." The short clip was over and he tapped on another one, showing a busy market in Marrakech. Handcrafted jewelry and silverware, traditional clothing, brass lanterns, heaps of spices, and candy typical for the country. "Smells great and you get ten fuckin' items for twenty bucks, all handmade."

Daryl watched mesmerized and then chuckled when black-bearded-Negan in the video took a bite out of a big chunk of white nougat and wagged a brow at the camera with an approving thumbs up.

"What's so funny. Never seen a fuckin' hot guy eating a ton of sugar at an Arabic street market?"

Daryl smiled, his lips hidden against Negan's forearm. "No." He really had never seen anything like it but he was so happy that he did right now. Glimpses of Negan's private life. His partner. The man he more than liked.

"Well, now you have." Negan spoke against a warm ear hidden by pretty tousled hair and switched to another video involving a terrified Gemma, himself wearing a headscarf and black sunglasses, Ali the tourist guide, and three stubborn dromedaries. He had to admit he had been a hot fucker back in the day. He also was a fuckin' lucky bloke for having Daryl Dixon sitting between his legs now, wearing a bracelet a random merchant had made him buy ten years ago for his future partner.

\----

After a quiet afternoon alone in Negan's apartment with Tiger and three episodes of the Gilmore Girls, Rick wasn't exactly thrilled to spend the post-nap time on the unfinished 3rd floor of the C-Wing to finish a project for the boss. Tiling a restroom floor. "He could just hire someone to do it." It wasn't his thing. At all. None of it. Preparing the floor, mixing the mortar, measuring, cutting, working fast enough, and accurately. He felt like a donkey writing a scientific treatise. "Not like he couldn't afford it."

Daryl didn't pause working the trowel over the ground and then pressed another tile into the mortar. "'s not necessary." He sat back on his heels to evaluate his work before putting a level across the top of the finished row to make sure the tiles were perfectly flat. "We can do it." They really could. He had watched so many craftspeople working at the factory and had helped most of the time, he could have tiled a wall or floor in his sleep. 

"Yeah, right." Rick scrunched up his nose, trying to scrape a blob of almost dried mortar off of a weirdly cut tile. "I'm not a tile setter." 

Daryl glanced up with half an eye, chuckling at the crooked, messed up tile. "Hja."

"What's so funny." Rick grimaced when his piece didn't fit anywhere. "At least I'm trying."

It was true, Daryl had to admit. The Cowboy boots guy was trying, he just really sucked at it. "'s okay." He took Rick's tile, threw it into a bucket, and grabbed a new one to cut. "I finish it. 's just two more rows and the part around the doorframe."

First, Rick wanted to protest. But his back hurt, his knees felt stiff, and his pants were completely ruined already with clumps of drying mortar and grout. So he accepted the offer and moved out of the way to sit on the side, just watching. "You're good."

Daryl positioned the spacers. "I like doing it."

Rick nodded and watched in silence for a while until he noticed a silver piece of jewelry that hadn't been there a few hours ago. "Negan gave you a bracelet?"

Daryl paused a second, chewing his bottom lip. "Hm."

"Nice." 

"Hm." He firmly pressed another tile down to avoid any bubbles and kept his eyes on the work when he dared to ask a question back. "What's your reward." It sounded a bit gruff and not very polite but it got answered anyway.

"Nothing."

This time Daryl did look up, kind of quizzically. Kind of commiserating. He knew Rick was a different sub with a different place in Negan's house. Maybe he wasn't even a real sub at all. More something in between. Whatever it was, it often looked nerve-jangling from a bystander point of view. Exhausting. Unsettling. Certainly, Daryl wouldn't want to swap places, glad that he had a safe, secure, well-defined place and role. And somehow, just for a moment, it made him feel bad for the other man who still had to fight and test and try and hope for all of it. "Maybe you get somethin' later." One of the protein bars from Negan's desk perhaps, or another visit at the sub room for cleaning the punishment cage.

Rick pulled his knees up, flicking a tiny crumb of dried mortar at Daryl's shoulder. "Don't need anything."

Daryl flicked a clump of wet mortar back, knowing Rick lied. "Okay."

"Yeah." A very faint smile tugged Rick's lips. "Okay." 

\----

Negan's guilty pleasure was a perfectly roasted medium Yirgachefe, with a slight note of caramel and jasmine from the Ebrik Coffee Room. Occasionally he treated himself to a cup after an especially long day or unpleasant meeting. Today there wasn't a real occasion though other than getting out of the house for a while as a little reward for his personal duo of tile setters.

"No. I said pick a clean table and wait."

"Why." Mister Grimes grimaced at the blunt order and firm tone towards him in a crowded public space. "I can get my own stuff." 

"Probably." Negan didn't see a reason to lower his voice while he studied the menu at the wall. "Or you do as told and let me buy you a nice treat for tiling my fucking floor like a champ."

15-year-old Lou and her slightly younger cousin who waited in line to spend a small fortune on a cool grown-up Instagram worthy beverage, giggled as they overheard the men's conversation.

Rick scowled at them, then at his boss, "Whatever." before he turned around and went to the table Daryl had already picked, pretending not to be thrilled that Negan would actually reward him in public.

A group of middle-aged men sitting at the next table seemed to be distracted by something else, having recognized one of the most desired submissives the gay BDSM world had to offer. 

"Hey." Scott moved a bit back with his chair and leaned over to the other table. "Are you the slaveboy from the Leather Factory?" He nodded towards Daryl, smirking. "I saw you on their Instagram."

Daryl flicked some hair out of his eyes, glanced to the left in search of Negan, and when he couldn't find him, scowled at the stranger. "'m Daryl."

Rick got a paper tissue out to wipe an old coffee stain off the table. "You don't have to answer him."

Scott chuckled. "Oh yeah? And who are you? The chaperon?"

"None of your concern." Rick balled up the tissue and tucked it away. "We are here for a cup of coffee in private. So mind your own business."

Steven snorted at the ballsy answer, nudging his friend Scott's arm. "Careful, Scotti. He's mutinous."

"Yeah, Scotti." Negan put a glass of orange juice, a cup of green tea, and a French pastry on the table before he briefly tickled the back of Rick's neck. "You wanna listen to my associate and mind your own fuckin' business or I stuff that fuckin' apple filling where the sun doesn't shine."

"Oh shit!" Dan, the third man at the neighbor table laughed out loud when both of his friends looked up a bit intimidated by the arrival of a tall guy in a black leather jacket. "It's Negan! What the hell!"

Negan sat down with a groan, gave boy number one the tea, boy number three the glass of juice, kept the pastry for himself and when he heard a bold comment about his genitals, turned around in his chair, making the leather of his jacket squeak, "Hey. Guys." He crooked a gloved finger at the three strangers, beckoning them closer. "I'm trying to spend half an hour of quality time with my boys in this fine location and you-" he arched his brows, pointing from one to the other. "-get on my fuckin' nerves. So be good, turn around, and slobber your cold coffee. Because if I hear one more comment about my fucking glorious dick-" He lifted his brows a bit higher, pausing. "I will get up and give you the chance to have a chat with me. In private. Outside." He gave his message a moment to sink in before he turned back to his subs.

"Was that necessary?" Rick wiped a bit of spilled orange juice off the table. "No need to give them attention."

"You wanna sit straight and drink your juice."

The order wasn't meant for Daryl but he straightened his posture anyway and sipped his tea while eyeing the pastry on Negan's plate. It looked tasty and he was kind of hungry.

"Shut up." Rick's face grew hot the very second the mumbled retort left his mouth but instead of mitigating his statement or forming an apology, he cast his eyes down and silently drank his juice while his cheeks grew noticeably red under Negan's piercing side stare. He finished, put his glass down, wiped his mouth with a ridiculously thin paper napkin, then wiped a random spot on the table with it and finally, "What?!" crinkled his nose in Negan's direction. 

"You seem awfully rude for someone who just received a great glass of juice for fuckin' free."

Rick wanted to shoot back. Say something clever. Or even something mean. That a glass of juice didn't cost much and really wasn't that big of a deal. But for some reason, he managed to keep all the negativity in, sniffed his nose, and after 15 seconds of pondering, pressed out a quiet comment through gritted teeth. "It was good. Thanks." 

"Mhm. That's more like it." Negan tore a small piece of the pastry off, ate it, "You're welcome." broke the rest in half and handed the right piece to Daryl and the other to Rick. "Thanks for helping out today."

It was a croissant, kind of, still warm and filled with dark chocolate sticks. Daryl devoured his half in three seconds, said a polite 'Thank you' with full cheeks, and probably could have eaten ten more and everything else they sold here. But watching the Cowboy boots guy coyly nibbling a real 'Thank you for your hard work-reward' coming from the chief of everything was certainly just as good. 

\----

Daryl had been told to take a shower and wait in the apartment until Negan would come back from a quick stop at the office. He didn't mind and chose to wait sitting in bed after receiving a cool message from Jesus that contained three photos and a short video about ATV riding. A lot of dirt, a lot of noise, a lot of speed, and real fun. He loved it and now was pretty bummed that Negan and he hadn't been included in the Daddy-boy day. It looked far more entertaining than cleaning, tiling, and going for a coffee.

_"Oh, you! Stop it!"_

He glanced up. Olivia was busy in the kitchen for a while now to prepare some after work-snacks. But apparently she got a little bit distracted ever since janitor Joseph had joined her to repair a squeaking cabinet door.

Daryl heard Joey giggle, Olivia state a shy 'But honey bear, that's my workplace', and then a weird smooching sound before a loud, booming voice put an end to it all. 

_"Look at you being all lovey-dovey over my dinner pots! Should I provide you with some fuckin' condoms or are you actually trying to reproduce on my kitchen counter?!"_

Daryl could hear Olivia's nervous stuttering through the door and knew she was probably adjusting her glasses while Joey's face got all red. It made him smirk just a bit, especially when the door opened and a very tall, especially beautiful man entered with a confident strut, putting phone, wallet, and keys on the dresser.

"There you are." Negan pulled his belt out of the loops and started to unbutton his shirt. "Did you take a shower as I asked you to?"

"Yeah." Daryl scratched his shoulder, watching Negan undress. "Where's Rick."

"Where's Rick?" Negan took his watch off. "Up on the sundeck. Shane and Paul are back."

"Hm." 

"Hm?" He turned to look at his boy, one brow arched. "What fucking reply is that?" He went to Daryl's side of the bed, shirt hanging wide open, "Come here." and grabbed his boy by the chin as soon as he was close enough. "What do you wanna say?"

Daryl knelt a bit uncomfortably on the bed, his bathrobe a bit askew, his damp hair a tousled mess, as he glanced up, not sure what to say for a moment. 

"Well?" Negan adored the sight, a faint smile shimmering in his eyes. The tip of his tongue poked out to wet the corner of his mouth.

Daryl tried to flick his head. "Good evenin'."

"Yeah? Is that how you wanna greet me after I come home from the office at night?"

"Hm." He offered a nervous half shrug with one shoulder and in addition touched two fingers to a hairy chest. "Sir."

Negan studied the insecure expression for a while before he brushed some hair out of his sub's forehead and bent down to kiss it. "Good boy. I like that. Thank you so much." He released the man's chin. "You wanna assist me in the bathroom now? Watch me takin' a piss? Suck me off? Wait like a good puppy on the bath mat with a nice warm towel until I have finished my shower?" 

As soon as his chin was released, Daryl hid his face against a warm, flat stomach while his own tingled in excitement. "Okay."

"Okay." Negan ran his fingers through damp hair. "That's fuckin' fortunate. Was looking forward to spending some time alone with you." 

Daryl nodded, his face still hidden even though it beamed in pure happiness. Alone time with Negan was better than any ATV ride through the woods could possibly be.

\----

After kneeling next to the toilet to watch Negan piss, having his hair pulled roughly while serving Negan's dick for 32 minutes, and then waiting in correct posture with spread knees and arms behind the back on the bathmat until Negan had finished his long, hot shower... Daryl Dixon felt a little on the edge. His skin was hot, his penis hard, and every fiber of his being longed for more bodily contact. Especially when he was made to witness how his tall, handsome owner dressed into a white shirt and light grey lounge pants instead of a leather harness and rubber glove.

"We can go to bed."

"We sure can." Negan agreed as he switched the lights in the bathroom off. "But first I have to spend some time with the guys upstairs, right? It's Simon's birthday." 

Daryl's heart sank immediately. He liked Simon. But he knew it would take hours if Negan left now to celebrate with his friends on the sundeck.

"You wanna stay here and sleep until I'm back?" Negan grabbed his phone. "Or would you like to come with me?" He closed the distance to naked boy number one, gently fondling his hard-on. "Show off that pretty puppy cock... let everybody see how much you like me?"

A groan escaped Daryl's throat as he glanced up, performing a mixture between a nod and shake of the head because he wasn't sure.

Negan smirked, tugging his boy's full balls. "How about wearing my bathrobe? You may sit with me or talk to Paul for a while." This time he got a clear nod, accompanied by nicely glowing cheeks and a pair of lips redder than usual. "Good. Go get it then. The sooner we're up there, the sooner we are back here to fuck for the rest of the night."

\----

"Oh right! Undietime!" Seeing his chosen brother in nothing but a slightly big, white bathrobe reminded Jesus that he was absolutely overdressed, at least in the lower regions, and instead of just dropping his shoes, socks, and pants, he also got rid of his underwear because he had no problem with a little nudism at the later hours of the day. He threw the useless items somewhere to the right and then politely went up to greet Daddy number one. "Good evening, Sir. Did you have a pleasant day?" He got on his tiptoes for a chaste kiss on the lips.

"Yes." Negan held sub number two by the back of the neck for a second kiss with far more emphasis. "Have you been good?"

Jesus purred in delight, loving when his dads got all possessive. "On my best behavior all day." 

"Good to hear. You may sleep with us tomorrow night."

Paul purred once more, nipping Negan's bearded chin. "Well, good thing I'm not on my period right now I guess."

The remark had Simon laugh out loud, Rick roll his eyes in annoyance, and Daryl wrinkle his brow in confusion until Negan leaned in close to his ear, "You wanna go give him the gift." and shoved him a step forward.

"Here." Daryl scowled, reluctantly holding a bottle of Tequila out. "Happy birthday." It didn't sound friendly at all but Simon obviously felt flattered anyway.

"Patrón Añejo!" He held the bottle in both hands, kissing it lovingly. "My son, I hope you know that this fine drop has won the Global Spirit Awards! Oak-cask aged." He sniffed the sealed bottle, cradling it close to his heart. "Handcrafted bottle." 

"Yeah don't fuck it in front of the boy." Negan waved two fingers for Daryl to sit next to Shane, "He's young and impressionable." then engaged in a hearty handshake with his friend. "Can't believe you're still alive, fuckin' bastard."

"Uh-" Simon lifted his brows in surprise. "Exactly what my mother told me this morning!"

Jesus wrinkled his nose with a questioning smirk, not sure what to make of the comment before he shrugged it off and slumped down next to Daryl, wrapping an arm tightly around the man's shoulders. "God, I missed you all day!" He kissed his cheek soundly. "Did you get my photos? We have to go together next weekend. You'll love it."

Daryl wasn't sure how many Daddy-boy days were scheduled per month but it sounded cool anyway. "'kay."

"Sweet." Paul put his head on Daryl's shoulder, entwining their fingers. "I was thinking maybe we could buy one. We could ride it all around the compound."

Daryl snorted. "We can't buy one."

"Sure you can." Negan came up, snapping his fingers for Paul to make room, then took a seat between his boys. "You're a fuckin' hardworking guy with a stable income. If you want something nice you can buy it."

Daryl listened and snorted a second time. Just a little and very quietly, while images of his very own quad bike popped into his head.

"The guy we rented ours from today sells a couple of used ones." Shane sipped his ice tea. 

"I thought we're saving up for the trip to Madeira." Rick felt weirdly disappointed that nobody had asked him to drop his pants. Not that he would have done so... 

"Awesome!" Jesus was all for it. "Quads on the beach!" He tucked himself under Negan's arm to get more comfortable. "I'm riding bitch with Daddy." 

Negan groaned, patting boy number two's thigh. "Yeah, I know."

\----

After an hour up on the factory's sundeck, the seniors were involved in a lively debate, while Paul and Daryl made out next to the jacuzzi. It had started with a harmless conversation, went to kisses that grew hotter and more serious by the minute, and at 11:23 PM Daryl was on his back, bathrobe hanging open while being humped by a very determined Paul Rovia who intended to make the most of Undietime without undies.

"God I love when you're so hard." He broke the kiss and reached down to give Daryl's leaking dick a couple of gentle strokes. "Did you serve him earlier?"

Daryl nodded, his skin flushed, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to say what he had done but in the end, just pointed at his lips once. He loved to suck Negan off. He could have done it for hours and days.

Jesus got the clue and licked not only Daryl's fingertip but his mouth as well. "You sucked him? Let me taste..." He swiped deeper with his tongue, groaning in delight.

The casual grinding grew into more serious thrusting that caused Daryl to moan and spread his legs a bit wider... until the tip of Paul's dick found its lucky way between warm buttcheeks.

Paul gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. "Jesus Christ..."

Negan watched from a distance, saw Daryl freeze, saw his head turn in search of a Dom, saw his eyes wide open, saw how Paul tried to collect himself and stay still... and did nothing other than giving a subtle signal to the left.

Shane put his bottle down and got up, not in a real hurry as he went over to the younger subs and grabbed one of them by the back of the neck. "Alright, I think you need a little cooldown, my friend." He pulled Paul to his feet, "20 minutes. Over there." and gave him a small push to send him off for a time out, then grabbed Daryl by the wrist to pull him up as well. "Negan. Now, buddy."

The rather stern tone Shane used all of sudden came as a surprise to Daryl's foggy brain, but at the same time felt comforting as well. Just like the hard grip around his arm when he was led back to the lounge area where Negan sat and waited in the most relaxed manner.

"Here." Negan snapped his fingers, patting his thigh. "You wanna sit."

Daryl pulled his robe closed and lowered down on Negan's lap, just to be roughly pulled down the last bit, a firm arm wrapped around his waist. 

"Was that a fuckin' cuddle?" Negan grasped his sub's chin, pushing him back against his shoulder.

It was a harsh grip that made Daryl's heart stumble. He tried to nod but his head was held too tightly.

"Mhm, you wanna think before you answer, boy. It wasn't a cuddle. It was goddamnfucking dry humping. I don't like it. You wanna ask for permission next time or I glue that gorgeous puppy hole shut."

A wave of warmth and guilt washed through Daryl's system. 

Negan tightened his grip a bit more, hissing close to Daryl's ear. "My Daryl, my hole, my motherfuckin' decision."

Daryl tried to nod because he really wanted to agree.

"Yeah? What do you wanna say."

"Your decision." Daryl hated how his voice sounded but he was proud to have the words out and then melted a little when he was rewarded in the deepest, smoothest tone.

"Good boy. That's exactly right." 

His chin was released, he was kissed once and then held securely back to solid chest when Negan gave his attention back to the other men in the lounge.

Daryl loved it. Being somehow invisible and yet the most prized possession. Taken, wanted, protected, with strict rules for all the world to see and follow. With half an ear he listened to what the Doms talked about. He watched Rick for a while, sitting on the lounge chair next to Simon but not being really included in the conversation either. He glanced at Jesus sitting cross-legged with his face towards the open night sky looking a bit remorseful but kind of proud as well. He had stopped in time. Daryl knew and wished he would have been able to send him a secret message somehow, telling him that he wasn't angry at all. 

"Rick." Negan hardly raised his voice as he addressed sub number three. "Come here. You wanna sit with me." He gestured to the free space to his right and earned a scowl from Mister Grimes that he ignored completely. "Chop, chop."

Rick mumbled something about being in the middle of a conversation with someone else but eventually got up anyway and sat down where he was supposed to in the most annoyed fashion. "What do you want."

Negan groaned with a lenient smile as he slowly shifted in his seat, put an arm around Rick's shoulders, and pulled the other tighter around Daryl's waist. "Well... Rick. I will go to bed in a bit. But before that-" He leaned sideways to take a sound sniff of his employee's cheek. "-I wanted to enjoy your scent for a while." 

"Shut up." Rick didn't even really realize that he had voiced an actual complaint because his brain was busy processing the compliment and affection out of nowhere.

Negan pulled his arm a bit tighter, squeezing Rick to his side as he sniffed a second time, whispering teasingly against nicely groomed facial hair. "Make me."

Daryl's stomach got hot and tight and tumbled twice uncomfortably, witnessing the sudden strange flirting from closest distance. He tensed, but just as he was about to form a thought of jumping up and running off, a very gentle hand brushed up and down his chest three times before it stayed up and the back of two fingers caressed his cheek as if he was the most precious thing on earth. It let him breathe again and turn his head a bit to touch those fingers with his lips. In response, a slightly cool knuckle traced his lower lip. It smelled spicy and so familiar that his stomach tumbled a third time.

Rick refrained from commenting anything and just sat there in a tight embrace, letting his skin grow hot. Letting the storm in his heart and mind run wild and fade out. Letting it happen.

Negan closed his eyes, brushed the tip of his nose along Rick's glowing cheek, whispered a praising 'Good boy... that's how it works', implied a kiss on greyish stubble, and then turned in the other direction to bury his nose into longish hair. "We're goin' downstairs in ten minutes." On purpose, he breathed some hot air against a hidden ear. "And you'll get a massive reward. So fuckin' proud of you."

Daryl held perfectly still as he listened, feeling very happy and a little bit angry at the same time because the Cowboy boots guy was far too close for his liking but the urge to behave and please Negan was much more important. And when just a moment later, his chin was taken in a gentle grip and turned for a better angle to kiss, he forgot all about any Rick Grimes and the anger he might have felt. He just sighed a hoarse little breath and parted his lips for his owner's magic tongue. He loved Negan's taste. Skin, cum, even sweat. But by far, he craved the taste of his mouth the most. Saliva, tongue, lips. Combined, his favorite flavor on earth and beyond.

Negan purred, delivered an extra lick, and spoke against his boy's glistening lips. "You wanna kneel for me?" He jiggled his right leg once. "Here between my legs? See if you can get me hard with your pretty puppy snout?"

It took a moment until Daryl's eyes fluttered open but he nodded right away, giving a small replay. "'kay." He wanted that more than anything.

Negan didn't smile but his voice sounded like it. "'kay." He shared a last peck. "You may start then."

Daryl felt hot all over, happy and giddy, and almost gracefully slipped off Negan's lap to claim his place between spread thighs, instantly feeling a broad hand on the top of his head, raking once through his hair before it guided him towards the bulge hidden in soft lounge pants. And his level of happiness even grew more when he realized that Negan really wasn't hard yet. Flirting and snuggling with Rick hadn't done it. It was like a love song for jealous guys.

Rick felt a weird tingle in his groin area when the arm around his shoulders pulled a bit tighter and the man by his side touched their temples together, nodding his chin.

"Fuckin' gorgeous boy." Negan smiled, seeing Paul still sitting almost at the edge of the building, legs crossed as if he would do some yoga or meditation. "Hate that I had to punish him again." 

Rick scowled. "He tried to fuck Daryl."

"Mh." Negan shrugged, playing with Daryl's earlobe. "He slipped up a bit."

Rick snorted, wishing he would have the courage to put a hand on Negan's thigh.

"Of course-" Negan shrugged once more. "-he's only trying to get his needs met. Not easy in this house." 

"What are you talking about." Rick grimaced, gesturing blindly at Shane. "He has the both of us!" And after a moment of consideration swatted Negan's chest. "And you."

Negan pursed his lips. "True. He gets a lot of dick."

Daryl glanced up, frowning, but was pushed down again immediately so he kept on tracing the outline of Negan's genitals with his mouth.

"He needs more, though. He wants to learn. Try new things." Negan leaned in close, lowering his voice as he sniffed Rick's cheek. "Boy wants to fuck." 

Rick scooted an inch to the right, his eyes flickering in slight bewilderment.

"And he shouldn't have to try with my sweet pup since one of the best bottoms in town already shares his bed." Negan pulled sub number three close again, exploring the warm area behind his ear with the tip of his nose. "Right?" He groaned, deep and sultry because Daryl did a fantastic job in his lap, and providing Rick with a bit more acoustic stimulation couldn't hurt. "You are a good top. But your real talent lies in another department... isn't that true? Who would be better to introduce the boy to the fantastic world of ass..."

Heat crawled up Rick's face while his heart wasn't able to keep up with the pace his blood flow dictated. He knew of course. Deep down. He had watched Paul, had gotten the hints, and seen the signs. He had experienced a certain urge himself. Played the options over in his head. But never thought of it as a real possibility. Never would have allowed himself the freedom to give in and follow some weird hidden instinct. And even now he closed his eyes and held his breath, even though his body grew kind of slack in the tight embrace, squished against Negan's side, lulled by a deep comforting voice that let everything seem so easy and obvious.

"He fuckin' needs you. Still." Negan spoke against Rick's temple. "You wanna give it a try for me."

It wasn't a question, not a request. It was permission, supervision from the higher powers, and Rick knew he wasn't required to answer or say anything. He didn't want to. And he didn't want to lose the close body contact either, and after a moment of hesitation turned his head just a bit to change the angle and give something back. A sign that he had listened and understood. A bit of a thank you maybe but definitely a silent plea to not part for the night yet. It was granted for 9 silent seconds and ended with the two little words he craved the most, coming from the man who wasn't just his boss but also the god of his strangely perfect universe.

"Good boy." Negan kissed a scruffy cheek, tickled the back of Rick's neck, "Goin' to bed now. Don't forget the monthly settlement tomorrow." He got a silent nod, the hint of a smile, no eye contact at all, and was pleased to the fullest as he gave his attention to the young man on the ground, lifting his chin with two fingers. "Ksst. Open." He was presented with an obediently stuck out tongue immediately. But instead of decorating it with some spit, he slid a hand past the waistband of his pants and swiped up a bit of precum that he spread all around Daryl's lips. "Did you make me fuckin' wet?" 

Daryl's heart almost stopped in surprise and excitement. He nudged the tip of his tongue against his lips and pointed towards the exit. "We can go." He never wore a watch but he was sure that ten minutes were over already.

"Yeah? Think it's time for your reward now?"

He nodded, copying the tiny smirk on Negan's lips. 

Negan pinched boy number one's chin, "Clever pup. Go tell Shane and Simon good night." and got up himself with a theatrical groan to join the man in time-out. "That was more than twenty minutes."

"Hm?" Paul glanced back over his shoulder and smiled at the sight of a tall stunning man in the magical shine of nightly city lights. "Oh, I know but I really enjoy the view."

"Hm." Negan put both hands casually in the pockets of his sweat pants. "Can't argue with that."

Paul pursed his lips and turned around, glancing up. "I'm sorry, Sir. I swear I love him." He tugged Negan's shirt once in the front and then leaned his forehead against it.

"I know." Negan dropped his chin to rest on Paul's head. "You wanna go to bed now. It's late."

Jesus nodded, digging his face deeper into everything comforting. "May I still spend the night with you guys tomorrow?"

"Yes. I'll take you out for dinner first. So don't wear that fuckin' Tiger romper." 

Paul huffed a laugh, "Promise." and after a deep breath, stood up straight and went on his tiptoes for a kiss on the lips, "Sleep well, Sir." that was followed by a second and whispered words in deep gratitude. "You're the best."

Negan whispered back, "I know. Got to bed now." and left to collect boy number one for the rest of the night's entertainment. 

\----

Negan listened with half an ear to the late news while reading through Daryl's report.

_**Good:** cleaning, tiling, wet_

_**Bad:** breakfast, with Jesus_

_**Like:** jewlary, kennel with Negan, bathroom service, tea and cake, pants_

_**Hate:** new job for Rick_

_**Change:** fans_

He was pleased with his boy's steadily growing ability of correct self-reflection. He was proud that there was only one spelling error. Smiled at the long list of likes. Frowned at the one hate, and wasn't surprised by the one point his sub wanted to change.

"Daryl." He didn't look up when Daryl came out of the bathroom, in his bathrobe and a scented cloud of minty toothpaste. "Come here please."

Daryl sniffed his nose, scratched his bum, and looked a little suspicious when he realized that Negan sat with a pen and notepad on the couch. There was certainly something wrong with his report which made him feel incredibly stupid instantly. "Hm?" He stopped next to Negan's foot, grimacing.

Negan lifted one arm. "Sit with me. I wanna talk about your report."

Daryl scowled. "Why." He hated reports anyway.

Negan looked up in silence, with his brows arched.

And even though the scowl never left Daryl's face, he sat down, despising every word he had written on that silly notepad earlier.

"Thank you. That's better." Negan lowered his arm on Daryl's shoulders and pulled him close. "Also thank you for your awesome report. I like your handwriting. You get better every day." 

"Hm." Daryl cast a glance at the report. It was kind of true. His handwriting looked almost okay by now.

"I've looked at the room you tiled today. It's fuckin' flawless. Awesome job." 

An unavoidable smile bent Daryl's lips but he lowered his chin to hide it as best as possible.

Negan pointed with the pen to the list of 'bads'. "You haven't been bad at breakfast. I told you already, I fucked up." He crossed the word 'breakfast' out and wrote 'Old Negan fucked up' instead. "And you're forgiven for making out with Paul without permission."

"Hm." The fact that he was so closely monitored still made Daryl's heart swell with warmth and pride. 

"Good." Negan tapped the word 'pants' with the end of the pen. "You like your pants? The pair you wore today?"

"No." Daryl shook his head and tugged the rather thin, grey fabric covering Negan's thigh. "Yours."

Negan chuckled, "I see. Easy-access pants." then scratched Daryl's upper arm with one fingernail. "Here. What do you mean, you hate Rick's new job? Him being a sub?"

Daryl wrinkled his nose with a half shrug. "Mh." He didn't really mind that Rick was a sub now. He always had been in a way, secretly. "No."

"Then what?"

He didn't really want to talk about it. It was actually kind of stupid. But he knew, now that it was part of the report and Negan had seen it, he would have to answer the question. So he did, mumbling a gruff 'What you jus' told him' while pointing at the ceiling.

"Hm." Negan nodded. "You don't want him to offer his ass to Paul?"

Daryl avoided his eyes with a shrug.

"Paul tries to act out his dominant side. He needs a sub."

"'s stupid." It really was. It had been perfect the whole time and suddenly everybody wanted to be someone else.

Negan chose not to comment. Instead, he directed the conversation in a different direction. "Are you jealous? You wanna be the one to have sex with Paul?"

Daryl grimaced again. He didn't like the blunt question. He didn't like the topic. He didn't like the stupid report. And he wriggled free under Negan's arm and tried to get up because he didn't want to talk anymore. "'s none of your business."

A streak of amusement changed Negan's formerly serious expression. "Oh really?!" He chuckled, pulling his sub back down. "Because last time I fuckin' checked, you've been my partner. So you can either dump my old ass and run off with Paul into the motherfuckin' sunset or a wedding chapel in Vegas, OR you behave like a grown-up and talk to me if you plan to spread your legs for another guy!" He could tell the conversation was too much for Daryl to handle, seeing his boy raging with emotions, a mixture of anger, confusion, and fear written all over his pretty features. So he toned it all down a bit, pulling the man close with a sigh. "Boy." He kissed the top of his head. "Are you in love with him? You like him as you like me?" He knew the answer of course but waited anyway for the very quiet 'No' that came almost immediately. "No, you don't. You wanna be his sub?" There wasn't a spoken answer this time but a shake of the head. "No, you don't. You wanna have sex with him?" For a long time, there was nothing and then not more than a small shrug. Negan knew why. "Yeah? Are you scared to lose him once he starts fucking Rick and not you?"

Daryl exhaled, a heavy rock landing in the pit of his stomach. He knew it was stupid. But Jesus was the best friend he had. The first ever. Losing him wasn't an option. He shrugged, hiding his face against Negan's collarbone, and was glad when a big hand came down on his head to shield him from the world.

"One-" Negan's voice was soft but serious. "That's a fuckin' stupid reason to have sex with someone. We don't sleep with people to keep them as friends. And two? Nothing would change between the two of you. Rick and Paul already fuck for years, just a bit differently. They have to work out new ways. It has nothing to do with you. Paul would crawl through cement and swim through a goddamn volcano to get to your hole, no matter who else is in his bed. Problem is... getting your sweet ass will always be a wet dream for him because you are mine and I don't intend to share. So he either dies of blue fuckin' balls or he looks for other options until a fuckin' pig flies over his pretty head." He kissed tousled hair. "Right?"

Daryl nestled with Negan's shirt. "Hm." He wasn't exactly sure what the pig-part meant but the rest sounded plausible.

"Right." Negan took his sub's chin and pushed it up a little to create eye contact. "You can play with him. I know you like it. But-" He squeezed one eye shut. "-under my supervision. Because he is not experienced and you are my responsibility." He studied Daryl's face for a while and couldn't help but smile and curse, "Fuckin' puppy..." before he pulled the man up for a kiss. A tame one at first. One with a lot of tongue and hunger a moment later. 

Daryl loved when his leg was taken and pulled over Negan's lap when he was made to sit with his bare ass right over Negan's covered crotch. He shut his eyes and drowned in deep kisses and hands roaming under his useless fluffy bathrobe. He could feel a very solid dick poking against his butt through slightly damp fabric and groaned, his heart skipping a beat. He reached down with clumsy fingers, trying to pull the waistband of Negan's pants down and wasn't stopped, but didn't receive help either. Instead, Negan purred a low, sexy sound against his lips, smiling faintly.

"What about you, Mister Dixon?" Negan opened his eyes to enjoy the blush on Daryl's cheeks from closest distance while he let his fingers wander to explore a very warm buttcrack and a perfect hole, twitching for his touch. "You wanna learn how to top? Put that pretty puppy dick in a nice tight hole?"The bewildered shake of the head he got made his old heart all giddy in amorous rapture. "No?" He kissed again, deep and slow. "What else... tell me."

Daryl's brain had difficulties to function and form a real thought, let alone a spoken answer. But there had been something he wanted to share ever since a certain night with blindfolds and gags and nothing but the sound of rain and the feel of hot, warm silk enveloping his penis. So he let out a shattered breath and gave a little nod, his eyes fluttering open. He inched back and put a finger on Negan's lips. "Goin' down."

Negan cocked his head. "You wanna learn to go down on a guy?" He smirked. "Too late. You're already the master."

Daryl didn't share the smile but shook his head, pointing down.

"You wanna have your dick sucked?" Negan figured where the thought was coming from and tweaked his sub's nipple playfully. "Want me to get on my knees and suck you off?"

Daryl squinted, paused, and hit his owner's chest. He remembered the amazing feeling of Negan's mouth on him and it had been one of the best things ever happening in his life. But the actual thought of his tall, proud, superior man, down on his knees to give him oral pleasure, almost choked the air out of his lungs. It felt wrong in any way imaginable. It made him horribly uncomfortable. Embarrassed. Sad. And very angry, that the option was even implied. So angry, that he wanted to hit a second time.

His wrist was caught mid-air, though.

"Boy." Negan arched his brows. "It was a fuckin' joke. I love your dick but my knees would kill me. I'm old." Daryl still looked kind of wounded so he groaned and shifted, turned them both around, put Daryl on his back on the couch, hovered over him without ever releasing his wrist. "And also... in case you haven't caught on, sweetheart-" He made sure his sub's thighs were spread appropriately when he demonstrated a couple of well-aimed thrusts against bare buttocks. "-I'm not really into the whole kneeling thing myself." He flexed his arms, lowering his head only to deliver an open-mouthed kiss.

Daryl's wrists hurt, his position was kind of uncomfortable, and his legs got forced apart too roughly, but still, his head swam, overwhelmed by love and worship, pinned down and hopelessly dominated, the order restored. It let him part his lips in the most submissive way and his penis drip freely.

"So much better, isn't it..." Negan moved his hips provocatively. "Fuckin' pretty boy. Look at you. Damn gorgeous." He meant it and gave Daryl's glowing cheek a slow, wet lick. "What about Paul... you like when he sucks you, right? Feels good."

Daryl didn't open his eyes but faintly nodded. Paul's blowjob skills were phenomenal but weren't really what he was secretly fantasizing about.

"Yeah?" Negan circled his hips and blew gentle air on the wet spot he had created on a feverish face. "Is it not enough? Tell me..." He reached down to firmly stroke his boy's rock-hard dick. "You wanna face fuck a guy? Should I find you a nice throat and teach you how it works?" 

Daryl thought he might explode on the spot. He groaned, felt warm spit hitting the corner of his mouth, wetness running down towards his ear, his penis being treated with the utmost expertise, rough and fast, the wide head of Negan's dick pushing demandingly between his cheeks despite the thin layer of fabric covering it. And then a sharp sting at the back of his bare thigh accompanied by a harsh word.

"ONE!"

His eyes fluttered open and he craned his head back, nodding. "Yes." He wanted all of it and most of all Negan. Now and forever. He heard a strange sound coming out of his throat when his thigh was slapped again, harder this time.

"YES WHAT, BOY!"

He wanted to cry, plead, and crawl into this man all at once. "Teachin' me." He wasn't sure whether it was the right answer but his foggy mind and confused tongue added the word 'Sir' twice in addition. Breathy and not very loud.

Negan liked it. A lot. He cursed, fisted a hand into longish strands, shared a fairly brutal kiss, and cursed again when it wasn't enough. "Up." He got up, vice-like grip around Daryl's wrist, dragging him up as well and along, made him stumble behind him through the half-dark of the living room, into the bedroom and without any patience involved flung him onto the bed.

Daryl had lost the baggy bathrobe somewhere on the way, the comforter was cold against his bare back and his pulse hammered in his throat so fast he got dizzy. He heard a noise to his right, he heard a command, and in the next second felt a big amount of lube squirted between his buttcheeks, impatient fingers working it in, a man pulling his arm, pushing his legs, climbing on top of him. His man. The one. 

The rest was a blissful invasion. Being taken, used, and worshipped, cursed at, spat on, kissed, caressed, and showered with sweet nothings and obscene everythings. Pounded so hard it truly hurt in all the right places, fucked all over the bed, chest down for a while, upper body hanging off the mattress at some point, head uncomfortably squished against the sturdy headboard for almost three minutes, looking up to see a machine of a man, sweaty, and stunning, with a taut face and clouded eyes, a work of art and force of nature, taking whatever he pleased.

Daryl came twice and produced keening sounds of misery and biggest joy when he thought a third orgasm was about to be thrust out of his slack body. He wasn't sure whether it had happened in the end. He wasn't sure whether he had a body left at all or a functioning mind. He felt wet, hot, and sticky, upside down, and inward out. Used, battered, and truly beautiful. Happy and glowing. Filled up to the brim with gallons of male fluids, all the safety in the world, and the rawest form of love. Squished into the mattress by 183 lbs of pure authority. Legs still spread. A spent dick claiming his pulsing hole, possibly for the rest of the night. Warm lips against the side of his collared neck, telling tales of comfort and pride. A hand firmly around his wrist and the silver bracelet attached to it. 

He would have smiled if he wouldn't have been so overwhelmingly tired. Maybe he did anyway. Secretly for sure.

\----

It was 3:16 AM when Rick Grimes left his bed, quietly made his way down the nightly hall, and slowly pushed the door to Paul's room open. He thought he would be really nervous. Embarrassed maybe. Feel like a complete idiot. But as soon as his bare feet made contact with the plush carpeting he was consumed by a strange calmness. He felt in place. In charge. In control. Able to make big decisions for his own life. Perhaps one of the most important ones yet.

"Daddy?" Paul sat up, squinting tiredly into the dark. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Rick wanted to say a lot. More than a casual, "Nothing. Couldn't sleep." didn't come out in the end though.

"Oh." Paul shrugged, moved half an inch to the right, and lifted the blanket. "Wanna sleep here?"

Rick didn't answer and was surprised how fast he accepted the offer. Paul's bed smelled differently. Good though.

"Sure you are okay, Sir?" Paul squeezed one eye shut, head propped on his elbow. "Did you have a fight with Shane?"

Rick shook his head once. "No, he's asleep." And with that, groaned, turned to lie on his side... and for the first time felt a little nervous when he took Paul's arm to drape it over his hip, guide him in the required position, back to chest. It didn't feel weird. It was kind of exciting. Especially when he took a big breath and wiggled his butt once to nestle it against Paul's crotch. "Night."

Jesus was a bit tense. Kind of confused. He wondered whether Rick could be drunk. Or sleepwalking maybe. But eventually, he just decided to roll with it and embrace the unforeseen gift, relax, and enjoy all the goodness snuggled up against his lucky front. "Night." He closed his eyes... and after four minutes of perfect silence, brushed his lips against the back of Rick's neck before he kissed it.

  



	11. Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy very belated birthday to sweet Unicornsfartglitter. I know it's much too late but after writing this silly little one-shot here for you my wicked friend, my mind wouldn't give it a rest and I had to write 21 other chapters around it and make it a full blown story aka Leather Factory Inc. I hope you find it somewhat enjoyable anyway <3
> 
> Also thank you for all the sweet e-mails, messages, and comments. I will need a while to work through it all. I'm happy to be back <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Consensual Humiliation in a BDSM scene. I repeat: No abuse happening here. It is a BDSM scene between consenting adults. Humiliation is the kink here.

"No, just prepare and start. Take your time. I'll join later." Negan tucked the phone between ear and shoulder as he accepted the extra full coffee cup his sub was serving. "Not sure if I bring the boy. Depends." The fruit on his plate was cut into odd shapes and garnished with half a pound of fresh mint leaves. "Alright. See you tonight." He ended the call and was pleased to find his sub kneeling in correct posture next to his chair. "Good boy. That's a great breakfast."

"Mh." Daryl craned his neck, licking his own lips when a strangely shaped slice of watermelon with three seeds inside vanished in his owner's mouth. "'s with parsley." He had seen how Olivia always decorated all the food with fresh herbs and he thought it would look kind of pretty if he did that too.

"It's mint." Negan spat a black seed back onto his plate. "Here. Try." He took a small leaf and fed it to Daryl. "Good?"

Daryl wasn't sure. It tasted like lettuce with toothpaste. "Hm." He shrugged. "' bit."

"Mhm." Negan smiled, feeding a big piece of banana. "You remember what day it is?"

Blue eyes flickered nervously from left to right before a stuffy nose was sniffed. "Birthday."

"True. It's Rick's birthday. You remember what Shane asked for?"

A deep scowl formed instantly on Daryl's features. "Use the playroom." He was disappointed. He had looked forward to a party with cake and balloons at the club.

"Right." Negan ignored the grumpy attitude, eating a strawberry that had the tip cut off but still possessed its stalk and greenery. "They wanna use my playroom. He also asked whether I would come and watch for a while."

The scowl got briefly replaced by pure confusion. "Why?"

"Because Shane thought it would create an interesting dynamic with a second Dom in the room." Negan offered a sip of juice. "And I would like to bring my boy." He waited patiently until half of the glass was emptied, then took it away and wiped the pad of his thumb over wet lips. "What do you think. Wanna join me?"

Strange pictures of a very annoyed Cowboy-boots-guy cuffed to the bondage table popped into Daryl's head. He thought a moment about it, scratching his ear. "Where's Jesus?"

"Paul will be there, but I don't know whether he will join the scene." 

"'s it with hittin'?"

"Ksst." Negan stabbed a finger between Daryl's shoulder blades, reminding him to keep his back straight. "Will there be impact play involved? I don't know. Will you be involved in any impact play? No, you won't. You may sit with me for a while, and if you don't like it you go upstairs and watch your-" He waved a hand towards the TV. "Jurassic Club or whatever that movie is called."

"Hm." Daryl sniffed his nose once more. He could do that. He loved the first movie with the T-Rex that ate a guy right off the toilet. What he didn't like was the thought of Negan in the playroom with all kinds of people while he was upstairs. "You can come with me." He touched his owner's leg. "Can serve you a beer."

Negan suppressed a smile. "We'll see."

\----

All day long Daryl had been busy with his chores. Washing dishes, doing laundry, cleaning the floors, and the bathroom. He went to buy groceries, took a whole box of mail to the postoffice with Joey's help, and cooked lunch. The quinoa tasted a bit funky but Negan ate it anyway. From 4 in the afternoon until 5:20 PM he knelt in the office, listening to a conversation Negan held with Miss Jadis about some new product and a problem they had with one they had already released. It was kind of boring but he kept his perfect submissive posture the whole time. 

When Jadis left, they went upstairs to have a light dinner, take a shower, and prepare for the evening. "You look fucking hot." Negan pulled the last leather strap of Daryl's chest harness as tight as possible. "Too bad it's not my birthday..."

"Hm?" Daryl flicked a strand of freshly blowdried hair out of his face, glancing up at the tall man standing right in front of him. Negan looked absolutely stunning in his gear. Black leather pants clinging to his long legs, freshly polished riding boots almost up to his knees, a bare chest partly hidden by the open leather jacket he wore. His beard freshly trimmed, dark hair neatly slicked back, and to finish the whole package off he exuded the irresistible scent of his trademark alpha male cologne. Daryl almost forgot what they had been talking about.

"Hm?" Negan smirked, knowing full well what effect he had on his sub. "If it was my birthday I would bend you over that table over there and fuck the shit outta you."

Daryl flicked his head again, shrugging one shoulder. "You can anyway."

"Hh." Negan straightened to full height, studying his sub's insecure features from above. "Tell me why."

The authoritative timbre in his owner's voice made Daryl's stomach flutter. "'m yours."

"Fuck yes you are." Negan agreed. "Tell me another reason."

Daryl exhaled a soundless breath as he stared up, trying his best to keep eye contact. "You're the boss."

A devilish glimmer flickered through Negan's eyes as they narrowed to a squint that matched the slight grin of satisfaction playing all over his handsome features. "Look at my boy being so fucking clever." He reached down blindly to cup his sub's nicely filled leather jockstrap. "We'll see... maybe, if you behave well tonight, I'll use that pretty throat of yours later when we come upstairs again."

The promise made Daryl's mouth water in anticipation.

The grin on Negan's face widened briefly. "Now go get my glove. We don't wanna let the birthday boy wait."

\----

On the way downstairs to the club area, Daryl's courage faltered and he entered the playroom in boots, jockstrap, and harness, holding Negan's hand tightly while hiding behind the man's broad back.

Everything looked different somehow. It was darker than usual and the whole space was illuminated by strange blue lighting. Music was playing in the background, hard, pounding beats. Jesus knelt on the ground with a serious expression, wearing nothing but a pair of dark blue briefs. Shane was there as well, looking more than impressive in tight camouflage pants and combat boots. His chest was bare and he was busy frenching Rick in the most aggressive manner, holding his head in place with both hands.

Negan didn't greet any of them, just collected a small bottle of water and sat down in one of the heavy leather armchairs, his right leg stretched out casually, his left arm on the armrest, taking up as much space as possible. He snapped his fingers for Daryl to kneel and as soon as the order was followed, pulled his head down against his crotch to provide a safe place to hide and acclimate. 

When Shane broke the kiss, his partner looked confounded, kind of lost as if the effusive liplock had sucked half of his brain out. Shane seemed to welcome those effects, gesturing towards the new people in the room. "Your guests arrived. Go greet them." 

A clear sense of defiance sparked new life into Rick's dazed expression, attempting to cover up the unease he felt when he walked across the room in nothing but a pair of boxers he had bought in a pack of three at Target. 

A very light smirk played around Negan's lips as he watched his employee approaching him. 

"Good to see you." It almost sounded like there was a question mark at the end of the greeting, mixed with a slight tad of spite that matched Rick's rebellious attitude.

Negan didn't answer for the longest time, just scrutinized the other man before he wordlessly beckoned him closer with the wave of two fingers. The little truculent snort he received got ignored and as soon as the distance allowed it, he reached out to grab him by the back of the neck and pull him down and in for a kiss. A firm one underlined with gentleness that was intended to remove all the phony defiance. "Happy birthday. You look beautiful." The compliment was accompanied by a shielding hand on Daryl's head and left Rick visibly confused even though his words still tried to feign confidence.

"Shut up." 

Negan ignored the comment. "Thanks for the invitation. Lookin' forward to see you perform." He waved his fingers again. "You may go back."

Rick flashed his eyes at the gorgeous man in the chair but swallowed any rude comment lingering on the tip of his tongue and just did as he was told. The 'Good job' he promptly received sounded very genuine and sent weird tingles through his gut that still kept its effect as he arrived back at the other end of the room in front of his partner.

Daryl hadn't watched any of it but he heard all the nice words and didn't like them at all. Not coming from his owner. Not if they were directed at the Cowboy boots guy instead of him. He didn't say anything though because his hair was stroked so nicely and Negan's crotch was really warm and smelled of leather. He shifted on his knees and buried his nose deeper in the offered groin.

"That's right..." Negan caressed the back of his sub's neck, playing with his collar. "Are you enjoying your place?" He felt hot breath warming up the material of his pants even more when a small 'Yes' was mumbled and he pushed his middle up in response. "Yeah, you are, right... Good boy." 

Daryl exhaled, the muscles in his rectum contracting with the praise. He kissed, once, twice, then licked the warmed up leather and rubbed his lips and nose along the outline of the hardening length.

Negan rolled his hips a couple of times, openly enjoying the affection. "Look at you making me hard so nicely."

Daryl nodded, glancing up through long bangs. "Can I serve." 

"May you suck me off?" Negan combed his fingers through Daryl's hair, slowly pulling the silky strands through his fingers. "Sounds tempting. But we're here for Rick tonight. You wanna be good and watch with me. Maybe you'll learn something."

It really wasn't what Daryl wanted but after another lick and 11 seconds of his face pressed against warm leather, he inhaled a last time and lifted his head to turn around and watch whatever the three men at the other end of the room were up to, because he wanted to be good.

\----

There was impact play involved and Daryl was kind of fascinated to watch another couple do it. Shane didn't surprise him. He was bold and confident, delivering exactly what one would expect judging his demeanor. Rick on the other hand transformed into a totally different person with every stroke of the flogger hitting his body. Red welts appeared on his skin. His cheeks blushed, his neck too. His lips parted and his eyes closed. He got more vocal and bent his back, arched and writhed. Losing all his tenseness and pretend confidence to his partner's skillful whipping. 

Daryl fidgeted on his knees, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"What's Shane doing?" Negan tickled his sub's neck from behind. "Tell me."

Daryl pulled his shoulders up, shivering slightly. "Makes him stop fakin'."

Negan was kind of surprised by his boy's answer but kept any amusement out of his voice. "Mhm. What was he faking?"

Daryl sniffed his nose, watching Shane putting down the flogger before he delivered a couple of swats with bare hands, making his partner moan loudly. "Bein' like you."

Negan snorted a laugh, then slid three fingers to the front of Daryl's neck, forcing his head back between his spread legs to rest on the cushion of the seat. "Open."

Daryl smacked his lips once, unsuccessfully trying to swallow in his uncomfortable position, then parted his lips. A gloved thumb hooked behind his bottom teeth and pulled his jaw down a bit more, before the man sitting behind him bent forward and leaned down, making all the leather involved squeak.

"Are you like me?" Negan spat into his sub's mouth, intentionally aiming a bit sloppy to cover lips and cheek as well.

Daryl could still not swallow and his breath hitched in his throat, staring right up into challenging eyes. He wanted to say 'no' but his lower jaw was held firmly and so he just nudged the leather-clad thumb with his tongue and tried to shake his head to some extent.

Negan copied it, his voice low. "No, you're not. You're my pretty subbie boy, isn't that right."

A notch formed between Daryl's furrowed brows as he exhaled a shaky breath, feeling a thin drop of saliva run down his cheek towards his ear.  
"Yeah, you are. Fuckin' gorgeous with my spit all over your face." Negan released the man's jaw and nodded towards the scene taking place at the other side of the room. "Looks like Shane needs some lube for his little faker. You wanna be good and bring him some."

Daryl found it a bit difficult to sit back up straight and focus on the task or other people in the room. He squeezed his penis through the tight leather jockstrap, glancing first at Shane and then back over his shoulder, at the man sitting behind him. 

"You remember where I keep my lube?"

He squeezed his dick again, making his back round as he looked around the room and finally pointed at the high metal shelf on the right.

"That's right. Go, bring him a bottle."

Daryl got on his feet, flicked his head, and made seven insecure steps across the room before he turned back around, holding his hand up for his owner to see. "'s too dark."

Negan sat relaxed with his right leg stretched out and his head propped on two fingers. "It's not too dark to see your signal. Go on, bring him the lube, I watch you."

Shane didn't stop what he was doing but sent a smirk in Negan's direction to make clear that he had been paying attention, and then watched subtly how Daryl went to the shelf, selected first a bottle of numbing spray, then changed his mind and chose a bottle of lube, and finally came over to deliver it with a rather gruff 'Here'. 

"Hey, man. What you got for me?" He accepted the bottle and gave it a closer look, reading the label. 

Daryl rubbed his saliva wet cheek with his shoulder. "'s lube."

Shane nodded. "Cool man, thanks." He gestured with it to the bondage table. "You wanna join me here for a while and watch me put it on?" 

Instantly, Daryl tensed up and pointed towards Negan. "'m jus' bringin' the lube." 

A smile softened Shane's features, "Alright, thanks for your help then. I really appreciate it." 

"Hm." Daryl pointed again to make clear that he would go back now before he actually turned around and did. On the way back he walked a bit faster and more confidently, sinking back down on his knees next to a long leg. "'brought the lube."

"You sure did." Negan didn't lose his relaxed posture, just lifted his left buttcheek off the seat to get a raisin out of his tight back pocket. "Sst. Come here." He waited for his sub to scoot closer, then shoved the small treat between his lips with two gloved fingers, deeper and a little rougher than necessary. "Did you also wipe my spit off your gorgeous face?"

Daryl exhaled around the invading fingers, staring up at his owner a bit perplexed. And in the first moment, he wanted to deny it before he realized that he had wiped his cheek with his shoulder. He couldn't say that though and alternatively, put a hand on Negan's knee.

"Was it by mistake?" 

The question didn't sound angry or accusingly and the fingers pulled back a bit, tracing his wet lips instead. "Hm." He nodded, chewing his raisin.

"Yeah, it was right... well, maybe you get more later."

His chin was pinched and the gloved hand left as Negan turned his attention back to Rick and Shane to watch some decent ass play.

\----

After 51 minutes in the playroom, events had taken a different route that left Daryl a bit confused. Nobody was fucking, nobody used a whip, nobody was chained to anything. Instead, Jesus was still sidelined and Shane had joined Negan in the seating space, both sipping some water while holding an almost neutral conversation. 

Daryl knelt between Negan's protective legs, watching Rick who stood all alone in the middle of the room, kind of ignored by the Doms. He wasn't handcuffed but gagged with one of Paul's bandanas. He had repeatedly refused to go on all fours and Daryl could relate a bit. Being on all fours in the playroom in front of everyone was difficult. He wasn't sure though why having to stand in the middle of the room caused Rick to sweat and nervously fidget on his feet, why he breathed heavily around his tight fabric-gag, and in between kept squeezing his eyes shut.

"He wears a plug." Negan took a sip of water, pointed with the bottle towards Rick, and then rested it casually on his knee, caressing Daryl's hair from behind. "It's vibrating. You wanna go have a look?"

Daryl pulled his shoulders up, the gentle touch at the back of his neck sending shivers down his spine. "Mh." He shook his head even though he was kind of interested to see a vibrating butt plug in use. He had seen them in their packaging at the store but never touched one.

"No?" Negan tickled the warm spot behind his sub's left ear, then pointed the bottle again. "You wanna go sit with Paul for a while?"

"Okay?" Daryl glanced back over his shoulder, happy when he saw his owner's friendly face. Being in the playroom today was very different but he really enjoyed it.

"Okay." Negan opened his legs a bit wider. "Go then, I'll watch you." He watched his sub get up and make a few wary steps, before looking back once and then crossing the rest of the room rather confidently. He sat down next to Jesus, instantly involved in big smiles and their own little world of private jokes and observations.

Negan took another long sip of his water, leaned comfortably back in his chair to watch Rick, and chuckled dark and deep from the depths of his chest when sub number three squeezed his eyes shut again, bent a bit in his knees, and reached back to give the plug between his cheeks a heavy push while half a gallon of precum trickled down his cockcage and onto the floor, adding to the impressive little lake by his bare feet. Negan handed Shane the water bottle and got up with a groan, slowly closing the distance. "Look at you being so busy to fuck your greedy ass on my goddamn plug." He made sure to straighten himself to full height and complete supremacy, flaunting his wide chest in the other man's private space. "Disappointing." With a sharp movement he grasped Rick's spit-covered chin, squeezing hard and painful with a gloved thumb and forefinger, as he leaned even closer, his tone low and dangerous. "Thought I see you perform tonight. Get to enjoy you on all fuckin' fours like a good boy." He squeezed the man's cheeks again, making him whimper in discomfort. "Should I go get a fuckin' coffee and the new Cosmopolitan or will you finally deliver what I goddamnfuckin' came for!" He got another whimper, more precum dripping next to his polished riding boot, and a desperate nod. Frantic almost, with a look of misery out of watery blue eyes. He arched his brows, locking eyes for three silent seconds, then leaned closer and spoke against a feverish cheek. "Good for you." With a last harsh squeeze, he released his sub's chin and almost gently pulled his head against his bare chest to untie the bandana. As soon as it was off he made a step back and dropped it on the floor. "No disappointments this time. And don't forget to clean my floor. Fuckin' mess you've made." He turned around to leave and sit back down, taking the bottle back from Shane.

Rick sobbed twice openly, looking from left to right as if he was searching for something before he finally squatted down and with shaking fingers swiped a spit-wet bandana through the puddle of pre-cum he had made. It was more a spreading of fluids than actual cleaning but at some point, he just stopped and wiped a sticky, aimless hand over his face, whimpering. His nose red, his eyes teary, his curly hair ruffled, his brain a useless mass of confusion, need, and terror.

"Rick." There was nothing negative or harsh to Negan's tone. His voice was calm and steady, getting the desired attention after two seconds. "You wanna come here. All fours."

It was true. It was all Rick wanted and for some reason, he nodded like his life would depend on it. He mumbled 'Yes' a couple of times. And his whole body was trembling as he got in the required position and moved slowly through the room, crying silently, his penis desperately trying to squeeze through the curved metal bars of its unforgiving cage, his rectal muscles throbbing around the solid plug in his ass. The ground was colder and harder beneath his palms and knees than he would have thought. The distance felt like a million miles. He stopped twice in between as if he would have gotten lost. And when he finally arrived between long legs clad in leather, he dropped his head so low it almost touched the ground.

"Atta boy." Negan reached down to lift his sub's chin with gloved fingers. "That's what I'm here for. Very nice." He pinched a wet cheek with a friendly wink and unscrewed his water bottle, feeding a few small sips to trembling lips, then wiped them with the side of his gloved finger. "What do you wanna say."

Rick shifted on his knees, looked to the right and back up into a handsome face, hearing himself stutter pathetically before he lost courage and dropped his head because eye contact with this superior man felt impossible right now. "Thank you."

Negan nodded, raking a hand through tousled curls. "You're welcome. Go serve your man now. He wants to enjoy your pretty mouth for a while." He got a frantic nod again and a whispered, 'Yes' that he rewarded with another touch to the man's hair, "Good boy, Rick." and then got up to hand the scene back to Shane and spend time with the younger subs at the other end of the room.

\----

After 78 minutes in the factory's playroom, Rick Grimes seemed fairly relaxed, lying very still on a full-length bondage table, blindfolded and secured with leather straps around his wrists and waist. It almost appeared as if he would be sleeping, so calm and even came every breath of air. 

Daryl stood at the tool cabinet, watching Negan exchanging his leather glove for one made of black rubber. 

"Here. Three for you, three for Paul." Negan gave his boy six lube capsules to hold. "You wanna go over there and take your jockstrap off. Shane will supervise when you put them in." 

Daryl sniffed his nose with a glance over his shoulder, seeing Jesus and Shane lazily kissing in one of the leather armchairs. "You can do it."

"I could. But I am busy here for a moment and Shane doesn't mind to help out." Negan selected a tub of lube and read the label. "Chop, chop. When you're finished you may assist me."

"Hm." Daryl wrapped an arm across his chest and hesitantly passed the room. He didn't want to be the one to interrupt Shane while he was kissing someone and as soon as he arrived the friendly 'hello' he was planning to say didn't come out anymore.

Luckily Paul Rovia had a puppy-radar and broke the kiss with a big wet slurping sound. "Mmh... hellooo beautiful." He looked back over his shoulder. "Would you like to join the snogfest?"

Daryl wasn't sure what that meant and just gruffly handed three capsules over. "'s for your ass."

"Uh!" Paul was highly interested, partly untangling himself from Shane's neck. "Lubesters! Who will fuck me?"

Daryl shrugged and made a step back when Shane shifted and got up with an amused sigh, lifting Paul off his lap as if he wouldn't weigh anything.

"Take them off." He tugged the waistband of Paul's briefs and grabbed the three little capsules. "Bend over."

Daryl watched a slight shift in Paul's behavior, in the split of a second adopting a far more submissive attitude, purring a 'Yes, Sir' while he gracefully dropped his underwear and lowered his eyes when he held on to the armrests of the chair to bend over a bit, his legs spread.

Shane popped all three capsules in without any fuss, patted bare ass cheeks with a small praise, and ordered his sub to sit down and wait, then turned to Daryl, squatting down casually. "You need help to take them off, buddy?"

"Mh." Daryl shook his head and fumbled clumsily with his sparse leather gear. He dropped one of the capsules without even noticing and turned a bit sideways to hide his bare genitals until he had taken the underwear off completely. He handed it nervously to Shane, covering his penis with flat hand. "'m not hard."

Shane didn't mind the gruffly mumbled comment and answered firmly. "Yeah man, no problem. That's because your man is over there. " He gestured at Negan standing somewhere near the cabinets.

"Mh." Daryl liked the explanation and squatted down as well because that's how he found it the easiest to insert the small lube pills. He grunted a bit when he pushed out and noticed how much his fingers trembled when he reached back to got the first in. It worked on the third try. The next one was easier and the last was handed to him by a very friendly Shane.

"Here, you dropped it." Shane watched when the young man pushed out with a small grunt and the third capsule vanished between perfect butt cheeks. "Nice technique, man. Good job." He rose to his feet and briefly brushed a hand through Daryl's bangs. "Go back to the chief. See how you can help him until your ass is ready."

The comment made Daryl happy, proud, and maybe a little bit aroused because as he got up and went back to Negan with a hand between his legs he noticed how his dick twitched in excitement. He really liked the buzz-cut guy lately.

"There you are." Negan cupped the back of his sub's neck, pulling him close for a kiss. "Have you been good?"

"Hm. Shane watched."

"I know he did. I'll thank him later. You wanna assist me now?"

"I can." Daryl more than wanted to. He felt like he could do about anything right now.

"Very good." Negan took boy number one firmly by the hand, kissed the top of his head, and led him through the room to where the bondage table was located. He stopped at the head, patting Rick's cheek. "How's it goin' boy?" He spoke loud and clear and didn't really wait for a verbal answer, seeing the man growing alert immediately, focusing on him a hundred percent. "Are you ready to play a bit?" He got a very faint nod and a new shade of blush creeping over Rick's face. "Good! I brought my sweet pup to learn a thing or two. Hope you don't mind." He patted Rick's cheek once more, a little harder this time, and then dug a hand into his pocket in search of a key. He cursed once, found it eventually, tossed it to Daryl, and waved two fingers. "Here. You wanna unlock his cage." 

"Mhm." Daryl was a bit surprised by the task but it didn't sound too complicated. He found the lock instantly, had to try twice and jiggle a bit but managed to get the whole thing off pretty quickly. He sniffed his nose, holding it out for Negan to take. Hopefully Rick wouldn't get it back.

"Hh." Negan took it and blindly put it aside, instead giving all his attention to his sub's freed genitals. He even went closer, pursing his lips. "Looks a little lost without its neat little cocoon." He poked it with one gloved finger. "Kind of puny don't you think? At least compared to my boy's nice, big puppy cock." He shrugged, strolling around the table until he was back at Rick's head, where he leaned in and lowered his voice. "You know why that is, Rick? No? Well, I think it's nature's funny way to mark the lowest of the pack appropriately so there won't be any confusion of who's in charge." He paused, evaluating the red on his employee's face from closest distance, then sniffed it and chuckled from deep in his throat when Rick's dick twitched and spilled a thick drop of precum. "Seems you agree." He laughed, shaking his head. "Daryl. Come here, sweetheart."

Daryl did but covered his bare genitals with both hands, afraid he would be commented on as well.

"Mh." Negan smiled, standing chest to chest with his boy, and blindly pulled his hands off. "No need to cover that up... no prettier dick in the world." He lowered down slowly for a gentle kiss on the lips, "You wanna take my jacket off. It's hot." and remained completely passive while his order was carried out. Lovelorn eyes glancing up at him, shy fingers pulling warm leather off his shoulders before the precious clothing item got held out insecurely. He leaned in for another chaste kiss, took the jacket, dropped it somewhere to his left, and kissed a third time, longer and with more emphasis now, caressing the side of Daryl's face, his neck, his ear, taking his time until a shattered breath was huffed into the kiss and timid fingertips touched his bare chest to feel coarse hair and the skin underneath. "Good boy, being so nice to me... are you petting me?"

Daryl nodded, his eyes fluttering open for a glance up. "Yes."

"You do... thank you so much." Negan watched, slowly running his fingers through the long strands at the back of his sub's head, gently massaging his scalp. "What else do I like? You wanna show me?"

"Hm." The thought alone let Daryl shift excitedly from one foot to the other before he poked his tongue out to touch a perky nipple. The fingers on his head stilled for a moment and then intensified their efforts and pushed him a bit closer, held him in place when he wrapped his lips and tongue around the hard little nub to suck. The deep, satisfied groan he evoked let heat shoot through his entire body, balling up in his lower stomach to set his insides on fire. He wrapped his arms courageously around Negan's waist and sucked harder, deep and steady as he had been taught. He felt Negan's leather pants bulge significantly in response and whimpered quietly when a deep voice of silk and gravel praised him over and over again. A big hand kneaded his buttocks, softly at first and with more vigor a moment later, almost lifting him off his feet at one point. He let his mouth wander a bit more sideways, kissed and licked a path to Negan's armpit, sniffed and licked and felt his penis jump when the arm was lifted for better access. He licked and sucked the hairy patch, got dizzy with pure bliss when his face got pushed into it all with a rude curse and simultaneously two long rubber fingers slid through his buttcrack, exploring the level of wetness the dissolved lube capsules provided by now. 

"Good boy being so wet for me." Negan buried his face into the crook of a collared neck, loving how Daryl lifted his right leg in an attempt to present his slick entrance. He growled and closed his eyes when he pushed his black latex thumb in and felt it suffocated by incredible heat and tightness. "Fuckin' perfect ass... goddamnit." He pulled out and changed to two fingers instead, moving them in and out for half a minute until the man in his arm was a writhing mess and his leather-clad thigh got humped desperately. Exactly what he had been waiting for. "Yeah?" He cupped his sub's ass firmly to encourage the erratic thrusting while speaking right into a glowing ear. "Are you humping me with your fuckin' gorgeous puppy cock?" With a subtle gesture of two fingers, he sent a signal through the room for Shane to come closer. "Did I make you so hard? Tell me."

Daryl panted, nodding once. "'m hard." He really was and whimpered, reaching down to squeeze his dripping penis when Negan made half a step back to break immediate contact.

"Yeah? You wanna show me."

He nodded again, a hand wrapped around his dick before he glanced up in a bit of misery to show off what he was supposed to.

"Good job!" Negan touched the swollen head with thumb and three fingertips, massaging it gently for a moment while holding firm eye contact. "Think we should show him what a real subbie dick looks like?" He nodded subtly towards the bondage table. "Let him have a taste?" He could see the message slowly creeping into Daryl's foggy brain, layering a slight expression of confusion over his feverish features. He met it with gentle patience and a faint smile. "What do you think? Should we reward him a bit since it's his birthday?"

Daryl held his rock hard penis firmly in hand but lifted a shoulder to rub his ear against, feeling slightly unsettled. He shot a glance back over his shoulder at the man secured to the table. "He can't see."

"You're right." Negan used the opportunity and moved his sub with a firm hand in his back, standing behind him to have a closer look at Rick. "Think we should take his blindfold off?"

"Mh." Daryl shook his head instantly. He liked Rick with covered eyes while pretty Negan was around. He also liked him bound to the table. 

"No? Should he just get a little taste?"

He shrugged with half a shoulder, fondling his penis while he surveyed the situation. And after 11 seconds he gave a nod. "Hm."

The courageous reply got rewarded with a nose buried into longish hair and deep words of praise. "Good idea. Look at you making such nice birthday gifts." From behind, Negan ran both of his hands up and down his boy's sides and then took him firmly by the hip to bring him into the right position close to Rick's head. "Who does he belong to?"

Daryl sniffed his nose, shooting a glance to the right where Shane was busy taming Paul's hair into a loose bun. "Them." It was a gruff answer that didn't sound very friendly and evoked a deep chuckle from the tall man shielding his back like a solid rock. 

"Let's say it's Shane for now." Negan wrapped an arm around Daryl's waist, rubbing his flat belly soothingly with his thumb. "You wanna ask him for permission before you feed your pretty dick to his sub." 

A flush of heat made Daryl's heart race and his face hot. He squeezed his genitals, glanced at Shane and then avoided his eyes, voicing a small stubborn growl.

Shane finished Paul's hair, gestured for him to sit on the ground, and casually walked over. "Hey buddy, you wanna join some play?" He squatted down next to the table, a hand on Rick's head as he gave Daryl his full attention. "Wanna try to fuck him?"

"No." Daryl scowled because he really didn't want that. 

"Well," Shane rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. "He gives great oral. Wanna give that a try?"

New tingles bubbled through Daryl's insides, especially when Negan bit his neck lightly, whispering a sultry, 'Say yes...'. He nodded at Shane, "'kay." holding his penis up half an inch because he wasn't sure how to proceed.

"Nice." Shane ruffled three fingers through Rick's hair, kissed his forehead when he rose back to his feet, "You're in for a treat, Cowboy." and then rather bluntly turned the man's head sideways to face Daryl's crotch. "Start whenever you like, man. He loves big dicks."

Daryl looked from Shane to the blindfolded person on the table, heaving a stressed breath, his heart pounding wildly. 

Negan pulled his arm a little tighter, speaking against Daryl's earlobe. "Sst. Hands off your dick, boy." He walked his sub another inch forward and took hold of his cock, stroking it a couple of times before he nudged it against Rick's lips and immediately raised his voice into a stricter tone. "Rick. You wanna open up and bid my boy a warm fuckin' welcome."

Shane hooked a finger into his sub's mouth and pulled a bit, then lightly slapped his cheek in praise when a willing tongue poked out. "That's it. Nice and slow, man."

Daryl didn't look. He held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut, hiding his face against the side of Negan's broad neck. He could feel it happening, though. Warm and wet and soft, a tongue gently nudging the tip of his cock. Almost like Paul always did. But this time it was far more exciting, making him tingle from head to toe. Feeling Negan handling him safely, knowing Shane watched and supervised, being aware of Rick's position and the whole situation being so naughty, had his balls draw up and his inner muscles throb dangerously.

"Is that so nice, puppy?" Negan took a bit of tenderness out of his voice and replaced it with a firm and steady tone. "Feels good, right. But you don't wanna cum yet." He patted the man's flat belly twice and squeezed his cock painfully. "It's Rick's birthday. Let him have a bit of fun first."

Daryl nodded, exhaling soundly through his lips.

"Good boy." Negan pulled back, gave Daryl's dick a few strokes, "You wanna look. Pay attention." and as soon as the man opened his eyes, fed his dick back to Rick. "Open!"

Rick felt his cheek being slapped and parted his lips, an instant moan spurting out of his throat the second his tongue made contact with a wet, salty cock head. The thrill was almost too much to handle. Daryl did have a beautiful cock, he had seen it often enough. But knowing who fed it to him and under what circumstances, had him wish his cage was back because he feared he wouldn't even last a minute. He opened wider, tried to scoot closer, angled his head a bit differently, heard himself suckle, slurp, and moan like a hooker getting paid for it. He wanted to be good, perform well, please this young man he envied so much. He wanted to be in this place forever, with the ability to run off and hide taken from him and his eyesight no longer available. He wanted to be himself for the rest of his life, just letting happen whatever came his way.

Daryl watched with hooded eyes, his lips parted in complete fascination, lost in the sensation and sight. It was like a movie, like a very grown-up fantasy becoming reality. He had sex in the playroom with all the others, like one of the men he worshipped so much, standing up, using a body part that normally wasn't more than a pretty accessory for a sub. He even found the courage to thrust his hips, just a little and very lightly, but it felt awesome anyway and pumped him with confidence.

"Yeah, that's right, sweetheart..." Negan encouraged the cautious attempt to thrust with his own hips, setting a very slow rhythm. "Show him who's my boy number one." He watched Shane hooking a couple of fingers behind Rick's upper teeth to create a wider gap and remove sharp edges. "Look at his thin little pecker twitching... he almost pisses himself having your awesome puppy cock in his mouth. He loves it." He gestured subtly for a change in position and paused only a second in tracks to unzip his uncomfortably tight leather pants and free his cock. "Come here." He pulled Daryl back a step and positioned them both right behind Rick's head but kept a bit of distance, licking and sucking the skin beneath his sub's warmed-up collar. "Feel that?" He pushed his hips against bare buttocks and used two fingers to find a way between them, rubbing up and down. "Wanna fuck you." 

Shane folded the head-part of the table in, supporting his sub's head as he carefully lowered it until it hang freely over the edge.

Daryl watched in a daze. His hole was fingered in the most perfect way, naughty things were whispered into his ear, a gush of precum trickled on the ground with a splashing noise when the blunt head of his owner's cock pushed against his entrance and made him groan really deep and raucous as it slowly breached him, feeling much too big in this position. He whimpered and pushed out, heard Negan comfort him in a soothing tone as if he was a true puppy in discomfort. It made him sweat and pant. His whole body was throbbing and pulsing around the impossible length invading him. He wanted to turn around so badly, wrap himself around his owner, spread his legs for him as wide as he could. But instead, he was manhandled and angled, lifted a bit, bent an inch foreward, and expertly taken right there and then, on the spot. Rocked and fucked for a minute like a ragdoll, with a broad hand wrapped around his throat and another holding one of his legs up. He closed his eyes and blinked them open again, seeing a beautiful Paul Rovia in a 4-foot distance fingering Rick's ass. Not in any playful manner but with the most serious, almost aggressive expression, giving commands for spread legs and clear answers. Shane was there as well, the fly of his pants hanging open while he rolled a condom on his dick.

Daryl shut his eyes and craned his head back, moaning when a hard thrust shook his whole body like it was nothing.

"Arms up. Behind my neck."

The small command seeped into his brain and he lifted his arms and bent them back, locking them behind Negan's neck. It pushed his chest out and exposed his raging erection. It directed his attention to the other side of the bondage table where Shane got in position himself, pulled Jesus roughly close, and started fucking him, slow and deep, making the young man grimace and groan in pure delight... until he lifted his head and a weird crooked smile contorted his features as soon as he saw Daryl getting treated in the exact same way. It made his eyes twinkle and brought his arms behind Shane's neck as well to copy the other couple's position exactly.

The right corner of Daryl's lips tipped up into a dazed smirk that was meant to be a full-blown happy smile. He shoved his butt back to meet Negan's thrusts and felt so wickedly beautiful, confident, and part of the group he thought he would burst. 

Negan met Shane's eyes over the distance to wordlessly agree on the next move and lowered Daryl's leg on the ground, slowing down a bit to make sure they both had a secure footing. "Are you ready to play a bit more with the birthday boy?"

Daryl felt a strand of his hair move as Negan spoke right next to his ear. He closed his eyes, opened them again, saw Rick on the bondage table with his head hanging down the edge, and knew exactly what that meant because he had been in the exact same position several times. It made him agree in excitement. "Okay." 

"Yeah?" Negan walked them two steps forward, giving his sub's jaw a slow, wet lick. "Wanna learn how to fuck a throat? See if he can swallow your pretty dick?" He received a breathless confirmation combined with an eager nod. "Mhmm... look at you being so excited... you wanna keep your arms behind my neck and concentrate on my dick and yours. Show me your signal if you wanna stop." He nuzzled a glowing cheek while taking hold of his sub's dick, stroking it lazily a couple of times. "Okay?"

Daryl nodded, eyes closed, lips parted slightly, every muscle in his body tensed up in anticipation when he heard a smacking sound and felt wet warm lips back around his dick.

Negan bent in his knees, using one hand to support Rick's neck while the other held the base of Daryl's penis, his hips rocking lightly. "Is that so nice? Feels awesome, right?"

Daryl whimpered, his toes curling. He was slowly pushed forward, pulled back almost all the way and pushed back in again, felt tongue and wetness, suction and heat... and then unbelievable tightness when Negan took hold of his right hipbone and pushed him even further, making him breach Rick's throat. He thought he would cum instantly. His penis got squeezed and strangely pulled in. He heard Rick gag violently and gurgle in a weird way, knowing exactly what it felt like.

"Good boy!" Negan raised his voice, calm and steady, "You wanna relax for me." pulled them both back, gave Rick a second to take a breath, and then swatted the side of his neck with a new command. "Open!" He pushed forward, inserting Daryl's dick once more... "That's right! You wanna swallow him in one go!" and was pleased by a new musical combination of Daryl's desperate whimper and Rick's gagging. "Nice! Hold him in!" He asserted some pressure, pushing Daryl in to the max, held him there, "Yeah, look how he makes your throat bulge like a big boy!" and only pulled back when Rick started to seriously struggle. "GOOD JOB!" He let him breathe in and out a few times, patting his wet cheek. "Seems we finally found your happy place, right?"

Daryl tried to look back to see Negan's face somehow. "One more." It was a quiet request, kind of breathless, and a bit rough but Negan recognized it anyway, smiling as he rocked his hips in a shallow but steady rhythm.

"Just one?" He held the tip of Daryl's dick in his palm and fed two fingers of the same hand to Rick's pleading mouth. "It's his birthday..." He lined up again, slowly pushing in, pulled out, and repeated it three times before he went for it all the way. "We're just getting started."

And they did. There wasn't much spoken for the next six minutes. Instead, the room was filled with a compositing of obscene noises, wet and intimate, overwhelmed, subconscious. One of Daryl's arms lost hold and fell useless to his side, as his body was pulled and shoved in and out of wicked heaven or a really sweet hell. Strings of gooey saliva and other fluids formed between Rick's face and his crotch, a naughty puddle of drool formed on the ground. On the other end of the table, Shane had taken hold of Rick's legs, held them high up and wide open so Jesus had access to the hole he was allowed to fuck, being shoved in and out by Shane's powerful thrusts. Daryl glanced up three times to watch, saw Paul in deep concentration, a bit sweaty, and very serious. Shane behind him in full control and power, just like Negan.

In minute seven, Rick bucked off the table, arched his back, and tensed despite his throat bulging, filled with a rock hard dick, and his ass getting pounded vigorously. Spurts of cum bubbled from his deep red cockhead and the young man between his legs cursed unholy statements, throwing his head back with three last thrusts as he lost control as well and came. It brought a smirk to Negan's sweaty features and earned Paul a comment of slight pity from Shane.

Negan chuckled, honestly surprised that it had taken that long. "Aw Rick... ruining it so soon for the boy. Thought you could keep it in a moment longer." 

In minute nine, Paul was sitting on the ground, watching Negan and Daryl performing alone like a well-oiled machine. Negan thrusting his sub's dick precisely where it was meant to hit, guiding number one and three with patient authority through the new experience.

In minute ten, the tone of Daryl's voice changed noticeably and his movements grew more erratic. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried several times to pull out and turn around in Negan's hold.

Negan stayed calm, speaking close to Daryl's ear. "You wanna cum down his throat?"

Daryl wailed and took his arm down, trying to squeeze his dick.

"No? For me only?" Negan signaled subtly for Shane to stay with Rick and pulled out himself, making a couple of steps back with his sub, embracing him chest to chest. "Good boy... go on then." He pressed a thigh between Daryl's legs to provide some friction and took his head in both hands, holding it firmly in place for a kiss. A deep one, reveling in the helpless, hoarse puffs of breath against his lips, fast and shallow. The fingernails digging into his skin. The humping against his leg and sweet mewling noises when he reached down with two gloved fingers to massage the soggy little hole between firm ass cheeks. "Yeah, there it is... good job..."

Climax didn't hit like a thunderbolt, it came like a growling wave, washing Daryl's insides out, rushing through him from head to toe. He couldn't stop rutting his hips, his pulsing hole didn't get enough friction, the spurts of cum wouldn't stop, and once they did it almost hurt. He wailed and curled up against Negan's broad chest, his head throbbing as much as the rest of his body. It left him exhausted and shaken to the core.

"Nice work." Negan rubbed his sub's back, patiently waiting. "Was that such a big one? You held it in like a champ for me, isn't that true..." The almost inaudible 'Yes, Sir' mumbled against his chest was clear evidence of how deep in sub space his boy was. "Yeah you did... so proud of you."

"Mh." Daryl nodded, feeling so naughty with all kinds of fluids running down his bare thighs. "You're not done." 

"Mhm." Negan pressed a kiss on sweaty hair. "That's right. But I finish off with Rick. You need some rest."

Daryl put a hand on his owner's dick, glancing up. "I can do it."

"Next time. Now you wanna sit with Paul and watch me." He had no intention to argue, took Daryl by the hand, picked up his leather jacket on the way, and made him crouch on the ground next to Paul. "Kneel as I like it. Both of you." He draped the jacket around Daryl's shoulders. "You focus on me until I say fucking otherwise. Show me your sign if you wanna stop and go upstairs." He grabbed Daryl's chin, pulling it up for eye contact. "Understood?"

"Hm." Daryl straightened his shoulders and spread his knees wider for a correct posture, more than liking Negan so much it made his heart hurt.

"WHAT?"

Warmth and excitement popped like a firecracker in his stomach, "Understood." and after a warning stare added an obedient 'Sir' to his answer.

"That's better. Now mouth shut, eyes on me. Maybe I do a test later." He turned around and left.

Paul leaned in close, whispering behind a shielding hand. "He means it. I had a C minus last time."

"MOUTH SHUT I SAID!"

"Yes, Sir." He corrected his posture, lowered his eyes, "Sorry." and zipped his mouth, loving all of his Dads to pieces.

Daryl did not only watch, he soaked it up. Every bit and little detail. A tall man in black leather gear and stunning bare chest, strutting majestically through the room, ignoring the bondage table completely at first. Instead, he exchanged a few words with Shane, chuckled about something, sanitized his hands, put a new glove on, laughed again about something Shane said, blindly unzipped his fly, and casually gave his dick a few strokes before he put a condom on. Shane grabbed one as well, ripping the package open with his teeth. 

Daryl shifted nervously on his ankles as Negan approached the head of the table, not sure whether he wanted to see what was about to come. But strangely enough, the urge to be good and do as told was bigger. He could see Negan bending down to tell Rick something in private. He could see him wiping a good amount of drool, snot, and yuck off Rick's face and shaking it off his hand. He could see him exchanging again some words with Shane across the table while blindly shoving two gloved fingers between Rick's lips to examine the state of his throat. It made Rick gag and retch. Negan didn't even blink. Daryl liked it a lot. Just like the sovereignty Negan positioned himself with right behind Rick's head, feet in a wide stance, shoulders square, knees bent slightly for a better angle as he took the man's head in both hands and lined himself up with a loud and strict 'OPEN! WIDE!' and instantly started to fuck. Hard and fast. There was nothing gentle about it. It wasn't an act of love or care. It was Negan taking what he wanted. Negan demanding service. Negan enjoying himself, enjoying a willing throat, enjoying subservience. And Shane did the same on the other side, spreading legs, slapping balls, fucking an already well-used ass with as much punch as he saw fit. Both men panted, sweated, grunted, dished out slaps and harsh orders. They were in tune, with the same goal and mindset.

"Fuck."

Daryl lost focus for a second when Paul cursed under his breath. He shot him a glance, seeing him rock hard and fidgeting.

"Where's a high res camera when you need one, right?"

Daryl didn't say anything because he was supposed to keep his mouth shut. But secretly he agreed a hundred percent. 

\----

Quiet time following such a massive scene played out very quiet indeed after the two youngest members of the group had fallen asleep. Paul curled up on the couch next to Shane, after the consumption of a gigantic chickpea burger with fries and half a liter of orange juice. Daryl with his head in Negan's lap and his feet on Shane's, buttnaked under the fluffy bathrobe that held him warm enough to let his skin glow in a healthy shade of pink. Rick was tired as well, but hadn't finished his food yet and actually wanted to watch Jurassic Park to the end since he was fascinated by the cinematic art. He had chosen to sit with Negan. Next to him. Very close, with an arm around his shoulders and an occasional visit of long fingers massaging his stiff neck.

"Rick."

He looked up. "What?!"

"I said you wanna hydrate. Drink your fuckin' water." 

He squinted hostilely. "I'm on my second glass, man. Stop exaggerating." He only mumbled the last part and avoided his eyes but felt a piercing death stare on him anyway as soon as the words had left his mouth. He grimaced, took the glass up, and drank for seven seconds until it was empty, then blindly handed it over. 

"Better." Negan took it, keeping his strict tone. "Feet down. Finish your food."

Shane had played with two of Daryl's toes without even noticing it and now quickly took his hands off when the man inhaled soundly in his sleep and stirred nervously. He watched him turning in the other direction with his face pressed against Negan's stomach and then squinted one eye in disbelief. "Jeez, man, is that your load?"

Negan glanced down, indeed seeing a generously filled, knotted-up condom in Daryl's hand. "Asked him to throw it away for me." He pulled it slowly out of his fingers, blindly holding it out for Rick to take. "Bathroom."

Rick scowled. "What, am I your lackey now?"

"Yes." Negan wasn't sarcastic in the slightest and gave his attention back to the ridiculous movie while brushing some fingers through Daryl's hair.

Rick grumbled something too low for most to hear, went to dispose of the used contraceptive, and felt his belly tumble weirdly when he came back to sit down and Negan held his arm up invitingly for him to curl up underneath.

"Did you throw it away?"

Still, he couldn't suppress a certain hostile undertone. "What do you think."

Negan didn't answer the question but blindly squeezed the back of Rick's neck, then pulled him close to his side. "Good boy."

The word 'whatever' danced dangerously at the tip of Rick's tongue. But in the end, he didn't say it. He kept on watching the movie, made a couple of comments about the special effects, finished his burger, drank a third glass of water, had to admit that a sleeping Daryl with slightly parted lips and wild hair all over his face looked kind of beautiful, ...and after 31 minutes of trying to find the courage, finally dared to tip his head to the right, just an inch, resting it against Negan's chest. 


	12. The Greatest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst warning, please be aware of the tags

  
_Summer 2000 was a great one._

_Speeding around the neighborhood with Merle's old dirtbike, getting shitfaced every day with the new kid from across the street, most nights not coming home at all because 15-year-olds owned the world._

_For most kids, Daryl Dixon was suddenly the cool one. The rebel. The one who could stay out as long as he wanted and never did his homework. The one who could hotwire a car and won every fistfight. The one who always had some weed in the pocket and wasn't afraid to steal the real strong booze from Sally's kiosk even though she had a shotgun underneath the counter._

_Sometimes he had such a great time outside that he was still all euphoric when he arrived back home, opened the door, and entered his real life._

_"Where have you been?"_

_Then he could physically feel his face contort as the smile fell off his lips, like a mask he had forgotten to remove in time._

_"Jus' out." And with it came his real voice. The timid one. Small and vapid._

_Papa did neither answer nor turn around in his old armchair and Daryl made an effort to wait an extra minute for it to happen anyway because the one thing worse than outbursts, belts, and boots was silence. Deceptive calm._

_He sniffed his nose. "'m goin to bed." There was still nothing and he hoped to add a defensive ''m tired.' would help._

_It didn't though. Two hours and 3 minutes later the door to his room opened and a cloud of Smirnoff wafted in to announce the man standing on wobbly legs in the doorframe. As always, Daryl wanted to send him back out, shout, kick, and scream. Be the rebellious cool guy all the neighbor kids knew. But he wasn't and didn't even find his voice to plead and beg. He was nobody behind these walls. A big nothing that didn't even need to close its eyes in shame anymore or cry from all the sadness. He was a nothing that knew being still and turning on its stomach with spread legs was the fastest way out, the least painful._

_This night though, August the 30th, with a clear night sky in front of the window and the shine of a bright full moon falling through blotchy trailer glass, being a still nothing wasn't enough._

_After showering his son with love, Papa wasn't done, didn't roll off the bed with a slur, didn't stumble back out of the room. He didn't say anything. Not even goodbye... before he wrapped both of his hands around a pale neck and squeezed. Just like that, squeezed with all the strength left in his old body._

_Daryl heard a weird gush of breath push out of his throat, he heard Papa breathing hard, heard a wheeze followed by a strange gurgling sound. Witnessed his arms and legs thrash around violently. His whole body. Or maybe he didn't move much at all and just imagined it just like the gentle fingers brushing once through his hair. He thought it could have been Merle or Mama maybe, right before his vision faded and the panic and terror stopped, leaving him still and peaceful with cold wetness between his spread legs and a heavy body on his back. A big nothing after all._

\----

Negan squinted in irritation when something clattered and a dull thud came from the bedroom. He didn't jump up and didn't run, but he put his laptop on the coffee table, got up, and calmly went to console his partner.

It had been a while since the last nightmare or panic attack. Not long enough though.

He switched the lights on and in the same second dimmed them down a little. Daryl was up, hyperventilating next to the bed, desperately trying to put a lot of trash and trinkets back under his pillow. Hands trembling, a bit of vomit on his shirt and arm, a bit more on the floor.

Without a word, Negan went to the bathroom, held a washcloth under cold water, wrung it out, and went back. "Sst. Boy." He took hold of Daryl's shoulder and turned him around, wiping his face. "You wanna look at me." 

Daryl lifted his head, wanting to apologize but his lungs wouldn't cooperate and he gagged instead.

"Mhm." Negan cleaned his sub's chin, making sure to have eye contact. "Are you getting rid of all the ugly stuff in the middle of the night?" He gave a strong nod at the miserable look he was given. "No better time to do it, right? You wanna chuck it all out for me."

A spontaneous gush of hot tears flooded blue eyes and it came along with a high-pitched gasp that sounded incredibly angry and full of despair in equal measure. It was clear, Daryl wanted to say something. Probably shout, certainly cry. Rave. Riot. Clamor for relief and fairness. His much too fast, shallow breathing prevented it all, let nothing come out but another gasp and a mis-pitched growl. He clawed ten fingers into the luxurious fabric of a white shirt, buried his face into it, bared his teeth, almost snarled, his throat painfully tight with all the frustration and fury trying to press out of his chest. 

The chin resting on his hair and the broad hand safely cupping the back of his neck lured a convulsive sob out into the open, let some of the tears actually fall and soak the white shirt with a sadness that had been preserved for 17 years.

It let Negan's eyes almost well up, too. Almost but not quite. He closed them and smiled instead, just a faint shadow on his lips, but it was there. "You're not his son." There wasn't any pity in his voice, just a very calm definiteness. "He was never your father. He didn't earn the fuckin' title." 

Voice. Words. 

Deep and full, comforting on such a great level. His anchor and solace. Giving something to hold on to and focus on. Daryl could have listened all night. Sinking in completely as he was wrapped up by power and wisdom. Authority. Kindness. Protection. Safety and unwavering reliability. All the things he had yearned for all his life. Many years delayed by now but not too late.

"You're my boy." Negan lowered his voice, toying with the warm steel collar he had given to the only person he wanted to be with for the rest of all days and far beyond. "And you're getting more phenomenal by the motherfuckin' minute while his ass rots in hell." 

Daryl was never asked for details, never pressured into explanations or meaningful, soul-cleansing tales from his youth. And he liked it because there was no need to put his childhood into words. Not for Negan, who saw him no matter what. The real him. Daryl Dixon, the cool one, the rebel, the voiceless nothing. The child and adult. Just him. Daryl as a whole. But tonight, after a deep breath shattering out of his throat, in the privacy and shelter of a solid chest and tear-soaked shirt, 15-year-old Daryl Dixon wanted to say something anyway. Here, in safe arms. Now, that someone listened.

"'wanted me dead." It wasn't what he initially wanted to say. What he had carried around for all those years. Not the 'Papa hates me! He choked me and just left the room!' the scared child in him wanted to share so badly. With Mama, Merle, friends, teachers. Anyone. All the people who hadn't been there or just didn't care enough. And the meek words coming to the surface now sounded gruff and hoarse. Not childlike at all. They sounded like coming from a stranger and not the young boy scared to death all those years back in a dirty trailer room in the middle of a balmy summer night.

For just a second they made Negan pause. His heartbeat, his breathing. His caressing fingers stilled. His thoughts, his sanity. For just a second he almost lost his composure. But not quite. Instead, he asked a question back, calm and neutral, no shock or appraisal in his voice. The sinister animal raging in him successfully suppressed. "He tried to kill you?"

Daryl just nodded, his throat growing tight again instantly. His feet made half a step forward in an attempt to find even more shelter and it was granted, two arms embracing him with all the strength he ached for.

"How?"

He heard the question and immediately felt embarrassed to say the word 'choking' out loud. Surely Negan thought of real killing, like with a gun or knife. Not two hands wrapped around his pansy throat. Maybe it hadn't even been that bad.

"Hm?" Negan took a slightly wider stance, rubbing a broad hand up and down his sub's back as he planted a kiss on tousled hair. "Do you remember?"

Saliva gathered in the back of Daryl's throat and something in his nose tickled. He felt shy and little when he slowly reached up and touched his owner's neck, just softly and certainly not even in the right place but for some magical reason, Negan understood his message perfectly well.

"He choked you?" A very soft 'Yes' gave him confirmation and instantly sent disturbing images of a boy struggling for air through his head. For the millionth time, he was grateful for Merle Dixon having sacrificed his own life so he wouldn't have to do the job. And for the millionth time, he cursed the very same fact because now a part of him would never find peace and reparation. But in the end, it didn't matter. None of it. Just the very alive man having found the way on his doorstep did. "Mh." He gave a small nod. "Well, obviously he had no fuckin' idea what a strong little fucker my boy is. You're still here. You're fuckin' thriving." He pushed back just a little, taking a pale face in both of his hands to share a sincere look, firm eye contact, reaffirming the strong bond between them. "Right? And once you see his worthless ass again-" He implied a nod up to the heavens. "-you won't be alone. I'll be there standing right in front of you, ready to yank his rotten dick off." He arched his brows at the small 'Hm' he was given, trust, awe, and pure faith in shimmery blue eyes. "And then you look back over your shoulder and guess who'll fuckin' be there ready to fuckin' roll."

Daryl sniffed his nose but otherwise didn't dare to blink, imagining a very tall, very angry man in a leather jacket and biker boots, insanely beautiful with his slicked-back hair and perfect stubble, standing like a furious soldier in front of him. Maybe on a cloud, not fluffy and white but with thunder and lightning.

"Your whole motherfuckin' family. Your folks. Abe and Shane. Rick. Tiger. Olivia. Paul goin' all fuckin' berserk on good ol' Pa." He shrugged one shoulder, smirking. "Probably not Eugene. Bet he'll find a way to live forever with his big head in a jar or whatever." 

Daryl felt his lips tip up. Smiling. Not a mask. Not pretending to be a cool guy. He was sharing a real, true smile because he more than liked Negan and all of his new awesome life so much, his face wanted to display it for all the world to see.

Negan studied his boy. Teary, snotty, pale with red blotches. Perfect and beautiful. Bringing him back to reality and the life they got to enjoy together. "Tables have turned, boy. You're not a victim anymore. You kick his ass every day, standing here, living your best fuckin' life." He waited a moment, kissed Daryl's forehead, "And now you wanna come have a beer with me. Colbert is on." pinched his cheek with a wink and left the room, switching the lights off. "Chop, chop."

\----

It was a great night. One of the best yet.

They had shed their stained shirts and held each a bottle of Belgian beer while laughing loud and blitheful about the jokes made on TV and their own little anecdotes. Like buddies, best friends, family, partners, lovers, Dom and sub. Negan and Daryl.

"'s bullshit." Daryl nudged Negan's bare chest with the back of his hand, his face glowing with happiness.

"It is." Negan leaned back with a groan, casually putting an arm on the backrest and a second later, around Daryl's shoulders. "...fuckin' puppy."


	13. endeavor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year my lovely pandemic-puppies <3

_'Orders and Rules - The Basics'_ was one of the Leather Factory's most booked Dom coaching classes for almost a decade, and frequently held by Negan himself at least eight times a year. He could have done it in his sleep by now.

"One of the most common topics guys want to talk to me about are the rules for their submissive, more specifically what rules to create, what rules to avoid, and how to enforce them." He took a sip of coffee and put the cup down before he pushed off the edge of the desk he had been leaning against. "The entire concept of the D/s dynamic is a relationship built around a ruleset." He went closer to his crowd but didn't really face them, just started to walk up and down in front of the first row. "Some of these rules are inherent to the dynamic, while the others are enforced as a reaction to it. It’s crucial to understand the goal of these rules to avoid making mistakes along the way." Loud voices coming from somewhere else in the building made him pause, but just for a second. "I am a proponent of honest dynamics. That means, I, personally, am only interested in truly honest reactions and interactions with a sub. To push a sub’s limits, you need to have enough information to know exactly where their limits lie, and how you can push on them in a positive, beneficial manner." He squinted when there was again a loud argument seeping through the massive walls of his lecture room, making him pause once more and glance towards the door. "The more information you have... the more able you will be to accomplish this, and the greatest source of information from your sub will always be interactions, honest to the core." He made eye contact with a couple of people first row he got serious 'I really shouldn't be here because I couldn't lead a duck to the pond' vibes from, arched his brows at them, and continued. "This mentality is in direct conflict with one of the most common rules enforced by Doms new and old: Asking your sub to always refer to you as 'Sir'." He pursed his lips, waving two fingers. "Or Master, Lord, Captain bigDick, or whatever the shit floats your boat. Of course, my 'honest interaction mentality' is my absolute number one rule. This means I only want to be referred to as Sir if they feel at that moment I deserve that respect. If they don't feel that way, then I don't deserve to hear it." A clear 'Lemme' go, asshole!' resounded through the door and sounded a lot like coming from his permanent sub. It made him groan, drop his head, massage his temple, "Gentlemen... excuse me a fuckin' minute." and leave his room full of eager listeners to make a call in private out on the corridor.

"Yeah, hey it's me. Can you check the staircase for me, boys are fighting. Yeah. Thanks."

He went back inside without any explanation, just continued his lecture in a firm tone. "When choosing rules to enforce, you need to plan ahead, Gentlemen. Creating a rule that you can’t actually enforce, or a rule that is impossible to follow undermines your dominance. For example-" He took a seat on the edge of his desk, ankles loosely crossed. "-what about a rule where your sub is required to strip as soon as they enter your home? This is another silly but very common rule so-called Doms will come up with. Total bullshit. What happens when your sub comes over with their mom? Or when you have some vanilla friends over? If your sub has to try and decide if you would want them to break your rule or not, the rule is a fuckin' failure. Rules and orders shouldn't leave any room for interpretation or guesswork." His phone rang with Shane's number, "A moment." and he held a hand up for his audience while answering the call. "Yes. I figured. Three upstairs, One here. Thanks." He put the phone down, continuing. "As a Dom, every order you give should be given for a reason. If you’re dishing them out like hot fries just because it seems cool or makes your balls tight, you’re setting yourself up for failure and inconsistency. Every order-" He pushed off the desk and slowly went near the door. "-should have an intended result. Every order should be perfectly clear, without any need for interpretation. Every order should be framed to fit the scene and the dynamic. And of course-" He opened the door the same second a shy young man with red cheeks and tousled hair reached for the handle. "Every order should be spoken clearly, with authority." He led him in, took his chin in a firm grip to examine his face, found no damage, and gave a short hand sign, "Kneel to my left. Eyes on me." before he went on with his lecture. He knew Daryl would follow him and kneel as he was supposed to in a polite distance on the left side. It wasn't the first time his sub had joined him here for a class. "You don't want your orders to be two dimensional. For example-" He paused, facing his crowd, then snapped his fingers in Daryl's direction. "Strip!" The short command was on purpose given a bit harshly and had the desired result, a head shooting up and blue eyes staring at him in bewilderment. "Seems like a perfectly fine order, right? It’s simple, and the intended result is having him rendered nude." He soothed it with a smile and raked a hand through Daryl's wild bangs. Then he stayed close, head pulled protectively against his leg as he continued his lecture. "Most so-called Masters have given this very order many times without thinking twice. But if you want to be the best Dom you fuckin' can be, you need to go much deeper than this. Any order you give should leave absolutely zero room for interpretation. The order 'strip' seems basic, but it’s missing a lot of information. Instead, you wanna frame your order differently." He squatted down in front of Daryl, giving him full attention. "Right Puppy? I want you to move back a little, give me a nice view. Then you focus on me and remove your shirt, please." He knew for a fact that Daryl wore a grey undershirt underneath his slightly baggy long-sleeved shirt because he had given him both in the morning after witnessing his sub sneezing four times. He also knew Daryl was eager to perform and prove his status as Negan's number one in front of others. So he gave him an encouraging eyebrow wag and rose to his feet. "You may start."

Daryl shot a short glance at the audience and then without hesitation scooted back a bit, flicked his head once, squared his shoulders, straightened his back, and looked directly at his owner when he pulled the shirt over his head. Not very gracefully, but finished off with a tiny proud smile in Negan's direction.

"You see... Gentlemen-" Negan went to collect his leather jacket off the desk, digging around in one of its pockets. "-you wanna remove any semblance of choice from the order. Having to choose is not what your sub wants, needs, or craves. They seek strong guidance." He found a raisin, went to shove it between Daryl's lips, pinched his cheek lovingly, and finally put the leather jacket around his shoulders. "The only choice they should be given is..." He turned back to his crowd, "Whether they want to obey or disobey." And paused a moment to let it sink in. "It’s these little details which separate a man just fuckin' dabbling in kink, and a Dom transcending typical sexuality. Anyone can try to tell a guy to do something they think is hot. But to be a great Dom you should be giving orders with a purpose, and you should frame them in a way you will enjoy as well. Of course, everything we do as Doms is focused on our subs. However, you should always find a way to package what you do in a way you will enjoy to your core. It comes back to the wants versus needs." He shrugged at the crowd, casually shoving a hand into the left pocket of his pants. "You give them what they need, in the way you want it." 

Daryl sniffed his nose and nodded once even though he hadn't been addressed at all. It didn't matter, he agreed anyway, engulfed by the wonderful warmth of a Negan-scented leather jacket, savoring his reward-raisin inside his left cheek. Sometimes he really loved room 23 and all the silly, boring classes held in it. 

\----

When Negan entered his apartment at half-past eleven in the morning he found his German Shepherd asleep at a sunny spot near the window, and sub number three sitting on the couch, flipping through the newest Men's Health issue.

He suppressed a groan as he put his phone and keys in the little metal bowl on the counter, got himself a glass of water in the kitchen, drank half of it, and finally went to grab one of the chairs from the dining table to place it soundly in the middle of the living room. "Sit." 

Rick didn't glance up from the article he pretended to read. "I am sitting." He turned the page, turned another one, noticed his cheeks grow hot when Negan came closer, and then flinched a little as the magazine was pulled from his fingers and thrown somewhere on the coffee table.

"Go park your disrespectful ass on the chair!"

He scrunched up his nose, still keeping his eyes down. "I'm not playing your childish bad boy chair game." The heat in his chest pushed another wave of red towards his head, fully expecting to earn an outburst or slap to the face for his comment. It didn't happen though. Instead, he was credited with an incidental shrug and a very calm statement.

"Sure. Leave then." Negan waved a hand towards the hall, "You know where the door is." and then went to drink the other half of his water, ignoring the man on the couch.

Rick's stomach tumbled uncomfortably, adding slight nausea and deepest regret to his already miserable state. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to sit on this holy leather couch without permission or utter rude statements with shoes on his feet that he was supposed to take off by the door. He had fucked up more than an hour ago and he knew it. The argument in the staircase had been completely unnecessary. Yelling at Daryl, shoving him, making him stumble and almost trip. Once again messing up their already fragile relationship. He didn't want it that way. He wanted it all to work out and he wanted to apologize to Negan. He wanted to sit on that stupid chair. A place created for subs alone, right here in the privacy of Negan's apartment. 

For almost three minutes he didn't move, though. Just stared at his hands and the tips of his worn-down boots. And then felt his earlobes glow when his feet finally did move, when the leather rustled as he rose from the couch, and he approached the dreaded piece of furniture in slow motion, sitting down with a blank stare of embarrassment and defeat. Then he sat there for a minute that felt like an eternity, not daring to blink or move... until finally the presence of a tall, very calm man soothed his tormented mind and body. Very close. With a leg brushing his thigh and a hand raking once through his hair. It brought a wet shimmer to his eyes and he closed them, wanting to say 'I'm sorry' so bad and in the end only pathetically cleared his throat. 

"You get a minute to explain why you felt the need to pick on my boy again like a jealous cheerleader in High School."

The accusation brought life back to Rick's facial features, making his nose wrinkle and lips curl. But he kept his head down and his tone almost neutral when he started to speak. "He brought some girl home from swim training and was about to take her up here."

"Hm." Negan nodded, hands behind his back. "And you thought throwing a fit is a proper reaction to my partner bringing a guest home for the fuckin' first time ever?"

Rick looked up now, his brows furrowed. "She wasn't a guest. She looked like a gang member." He squinted, gesturing to the right. "You never let anyone up here. He didn't even ask you."

"I see." Negan pursed his lips and decided to change the subject for now. "You remember when Daryl showed up here for the first time?" He went to get himself a chair as well and put it opposite from Rick's, straddling the seat reversed, his wrists crossed over the backrest. "I wanted it to work out. I wanted him to stay and be happy in my house. I wanted him to be my boy. And for a big part, I have to thank Paul that it all went so smoothly in the end. He was here first. He took responsibility. Did his part and still does. He loves Daryl. He sees where the boy comes from and wants to help, share his experience. He wants to make it work as much as I do." Negan paused, expecting eye contact. "The question is... do you want to make it work? I mean, you are a smart guy. You must realize that I can't take in a new boy who doesn't support my partner."

Rick's head dropped, his jaw set.

"I see your struggle with the changes in your own life. But that doesn't mean that you're off the hook. I expect you to lead by example. Not as a sub or Dom but as a man who's experienced in life. Work. Relationships. You had a safe, loving childhood. You received proper education, you are successful in your profession, you had relationships all your adult life. You have been a good husband, you are a great father. Compared to your life experience as a functioning member of our beautiful society... he is a five-year-old who's just starting out. He's doing an amazing job catching up. But still, you are the one who should provide a good example. You won't boss him around, you won't talk down on him. You will support him. You will offer constructive, respectful criticism. You will offer help. You will constantly work on a good relationship with him because getting along well with my partner is the only way this fucking amazing thing we started here works out in the long run." Negan grasped Rick's chin to lift it up for eye contact. "I hope I made myself clear. There is no other way. You either get your shit together and act like a grown-up or you tell me right here and now that you are not interested in a good and healthy relationship with my boy. In that case-" He turned Rick's face to the right towards the hall, "You know where the exit is." then turned it back, arching his brows. "Right? So tell me... darling... will you try and live up to my expectations or would you like to leave the sub-quarters and head back to friends-Ville." Actually, he kind of adored the feisty look he was given, especially combined with those prettily curled lips.

"What does it look like."

"What does it look like?" He shrugged, releasing sub number three's chin, "Well-" and got up with a groan to carry his chair to its place at the dining table. "-it looks like you wanna sit here a bit longer and think about our little conversation and what you really want." He went back, pinching a glowing cheek. "Then you wanna tell me your decision. Then you may get the opportunity to apologize." The snorted huff of breath he earned wasn't in any way relevant and he ignored it accordingly, leaving to get his laptop from the bedroom. He brought it over to the couch, sat down, and put one foot up on the coffee table as he started to work on a concept for the new steel toy line Anne had mentioned. Development, numbers, marketing. He took his time. 30 minutes and another 5 to read a mail from Mister Porter. Then he put his computer down and approached the man still sitting on a singled-out chair in the middle of the room. "Are you done thinking?"

The question didn't sound teasing at all but still, Rick felt a pinch of defiance poke his chest that kept him from lifting his head. Instead, his lips twitched once in an attempt to say something witty. It almost came out. Before two fingers gently pushed his chin up to make him look at a handsome face with dark brows cocked in expectation.

"Well?"

The sight gave him the confidence to actually say out loud what he had been thinking about for the past 20 minutes. "Let's take a trip in the RV. Get out here for a while." It sounded like a petulant comment and lacked the part where he meant to say that he really did want to make it work and that he actually liked Daryl a lot. But the all-knowing man forcing eye contact out of him didn't seem to mind and actually appeared to be surprised by the answer. 

"You wanna go on some team-building bonding trip in that fuckin' love shack on wheels?" 

A slight glare crawled over Rick's face and he shrugged once. "Why not. He'll like it." 

Negan poked his left eyetooth with the tip of his tongue as he studied sub number three's face. "Yeah. He would."

"And you could do with a short break from work." Rick just mumbled the last part, avoiding his eyes. "Won't kill you."

"Mh." Negan nodded once, his lips crooking to some extent. "Not so sure about that. Eating canned food for days and shitting it into a fucking compost toilet doesn't exactly sound like a dream vacation."

Rick pulled his chin free, grumbling. "Don't be a baby."

Negan chuckled, crowding his sub into the backrest of the chair. "You get three days. Starting tomorrow morning. Go organize everything. At the store. The office. A route for the trip. Reschedule my appointments. Pack the fucking bug spray. And Rick-" He leaned even closer, almost nose to nose. "-you better make it worth my fuckin' while or I accidentally lose that pretty little key to my cage in the spectacular wilderness of Georgia." 

Rick's nostrils twitched as he cocked his head, holding the provocative stare. "I will. No worries." 

"I'm counting on it, Rick." Negan squinted one eye, a faint smirk on his face. "I'm counting on it." 

\----

'Get us lunch and find a nice place to eat' were the instructions Daryl had received 77 minutes ago and he was pretty pleased with his accomplishments so far. He had gotten shōyu ramen from Ginya Izakaya along with real chopsticks, and Olivia had given him two apples she had polished with her sleeve for at least a minute. Now he waited on one of the factory's loading docks because it was a really great spot to hang out in private. He was there before noon and threw a tennis ball for Tiger in the loading zone. Eleven times the dog jumped excitedly, ran to fetch the ball, and brought it back. The twelfth time, Daryl threw the ball, Tiger ran after it... and then completely forgot about his task when a tall man in a grey 'Apex Swimming' hoodie came into sight, whistling through his teeth. 

Daryl flicked some hair out of his eyes and smiled without even noticing it when Tiger let out a happy bark and ran to Negan who ruffled the dog's head and even allowed some playful gnawing on his hand.

"Hello." It was a small greeting in low voice and he felt genuinely shy when Negan approached him in his usual firm stride.

"There you are. Is that where you want us to have lunch?"

"Mh." Daryl nodded once, sliding off the loading dock to present the food. "Soup 'n apples."

"I see." Negan opened one of the take-out containers for a glance inside. "Ramen?" 

"Hm." Daryl wiped a strand of hair out of his forehead, suddenly thinking he should have probably gotten more. "With tofu 'n mushrooms."

"Nice." Negan sat down, legs comfortably spread. "Will you slurp my fuckin' ear off?" He unwrapped the cheap chopsticks and clicked them once together. They would probably do.

"No."

The guilty little shake of the head he got was the sweetest side dish he could have asked for and his lips crooked into a smile. "Thank you. Come here now, sit. I don't wanna eat alone." He adored the way his sub hopped up the ramp to sit next to him, spilled a bit of broth as he opened the lid of his container, licked his fingers, the side of his hand, and then decided to drink some of the soup and suck a couple of noodles into his mouth, along with a chunk of fried tofu that he ate with his fingers. "Is it good?"

"Hm." It was awesome.

"Mhm." Negan held his chopsticks up, clicking them again to get his sub's attention. "You wanna use them." He waited and watched a moment as his request was followed and then focused on his own food, starting the conversation he had planned as casually as possible. "So, Shane told me Rick and you had a fight? Again?"

Daryl ate two mushroom pieces and didn't look up. "Hm."

"You wanna tell me the reason?"

He sniffed his nose and poked a piece of crispy tofu. "Arat had to piss."

Negan nodded, kind of surprised by the name. He knew Arat. She was one of his best students and one of the most versatile female swimmers in the country. Had earned gold for 800m freestyle at the 2016 Olympics and silver for 100m backstroke at the 2017 World Championships. She also was a tough little shit with a slight aggression problem and a foul mouth with no filter whatsoever. His kind of girl exactly. "Mhm. Arat from swim training?"

Daryl chewed his bottom lip, glancing up at the neutral tone, glad that he wasn't scolded. "Mh."

"That's not how you wanna answer my question."

"She's from training."

"Nice. How come she needed to use our bathroom?" Negan whistled for Tiger to come and sit by his feet. "Were you hanging out?" 

"No." Daryl poked his food. He was still pissed at Rick. "She wanted to see my bike." And the store and maybe watch some swimming videos on youtube.

Negan gave a nod and kept his tone serious. "Tell her she's welcome to hang out here. Rick was a bit of a jerk today. I took care of it."

Daryl nodded as well, "'kay." nudging Negan's upper arm with his because he was really glad that he hadn't fucked up.

"Okay." Negan nudged back. "Arat is a good addition to the swim group, right? Bet she gives the other chicks hell." 

"Hja." Daryl huffed a laugh. She really did. Tina had made fun of Arat's hair and Arat had called her a frump and threatened to feed her a bag of lady's hygiene products if she would ever look in her direction again.

"Yeah, she's an asshole." Negan smirked, picking the last mushroom out of his container. "She's also a great training partner. You can learn from her."

"I learn from you."

"Yeah? What do you learn from me?"

Daryl shrugged. He learned pretty much everything from Negan. Even spit-shining shoes and online banking. "Swimmin' 'n stuff."

"True. Should I teach you how to dive in a lake?" 

His head spun around. "Hm?"

"Should I also teach you how to stand in the fuckin' corner until you understand that I want my questions answered properly?"

"No." Daryl wrinkled his nose. 

"Good. Rick suggested we take the weekend off and go on a little trip with his RV."

"Why." A deep frown was added to Daryl's skeptical expression.

"Why?" Negan ate the last noodles, drank the last bit of broth, and closed the container, looking at his boy with arched brows. "Because he's sorry that he was such an ass today. And he wants to work on a better relationship with you."

Daryl grimaced, not convinced at all. "Will Jesus come?"

"No." Negan got off the loading ramp. "Paul won't come back before Tuesday next week." He grabbed one of the apples, rubbed it on his shirt twice, and took a small bite before he pushed between Daryl's legs and without a comment leaned in close for a kiss... to pass the piece of apple. "What do you wanna say."

Daryl had five fingers wrapped tightly around his ramen container, holding his breath when the treat was transferred into his mouth and got garnished with a gentle kiss. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome." Negan shared another peck on the lips. "You don't seem very excited. Thought you'd be happy to go on a trip with the camper." 

"'m happy."

It was a short answer given in the grumpiest tone ever, leaving Negan wildly amused. "Oh really?" He pulled back, wanting to see his boy's face.

"Yeah." Daryl growled once and avoided his eyes with a shrug of one shoulder. "But the RV has jus' one bed." He knew that because after Rick had purchased the new vehicle, Jesus had given him a tour and promised that the only bed available would be the perfect fuck-lair for three.

"Well, that's a bummer." Negan agreed. "Not sure if I wanna cuddle with Shane all night."

The comment made Daryl chuckle. It would be funny if Shane and Negan would cuddle. It wouldn't be funny at all though if Rick would join as well. He sniffed his nose, toying with the fabric of Negan's hoodie. "'can build a shelter outside." 

"Yeah?" Negan purred, nuzzling Daryl's ear. "A nice little guestroom for Shane and Rick so I can fuck your sweet ass on every surface that fuckin' camper has to offer?"

Daryl tilted his head a little for better access, closing his eyes. "Yes." 

"Sounds good." Negan moved another inch closer, a hand between his subs legs. "What do you think... should I take my pup to the kennel now for a little nap?"

A gush of hot sparks swirled like a naughty snake through Daryl's lower abdomen, making him huff a breath against Negan's shoulder and he tried to press his thighs together because his penis twitched and started to swell immediately. "'kay." 

Negan groaned, sucking a warm spot behind Daryl's ear as he fondled the beginning hardness his words had encouraged. "Good boy, being so excited about naptime." He gave his sub's dick a good squeeze. "Let's go then. I'll feed you the rest of that apple later."

Daryl nodded, spreading his thighs as wide as he could. "Yes." Assisting at the Dom class, picnic on the loading dock, kennel-time, an apple-feed in the afternoon, and a trip with Negan through Georgia in an RV. This day couldn't possibly get any better.


End file.
